Denim Dilemmas
by waterbaby134
Summary: Photographs of formal occasions and Jane in jeans. And Lisbon hasn't had her coffee this morning. How will she cope? A Secret Santa gift for shoppingluva91. Pure fluff all the way. Rating now T!
1. Chapter 1

**A Secret Santa gift for shoppingluva91 at the Jello Forever forum.**

**Prompt: Jeans.**

**A few spoilers for "A Price Above Rubies" which I haven't actually seen but I've seen bits and pieces of it, so forgive me if some stuff is wrong. **

**Enjoy!**

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When I get to my office on Tuesday morning, there's a set of photographs waiting on my desk, from the benefit the other night.

One of Cho, holding a drink and looking into the camera lens with his trademark non-enthusiasm.

One of Rigsby and Van Pelt. She 's smiling at the camera but Rigsby's looking down at her with such adoration it makes me smile. They're really making it difficult for me to pretend I don't know about their relationship, if they're going to make it this obvious, I don't know how much longer I can keep up the act of ignorance.

Still, it's a nice picture. Maybe I'll make them some copies and slip them onto their desks later.

Here's one of the five of us together. Cho's even smiling. I'm going to get this one framed and keep it at home. A family portrait, if you will.

The next photograph is of Jane and me. He's got his arm around me and neither of us is looking at the camera because we're arguing. As I recall, I was telling him to get his arm off me before I broke it.

The one after is another of the two of us, only this time we're smiling. He's still got his arm around me. Jerk.

But instead of moving on, I gaze at the image of Jane, taking in his million-dollar smile for a long moment.

Then I throw the picture down, disgusted with myself.

So Patrick Jane looks good in a tuxedo.

There's a revelation, I sure didn't see that one coming.

Not.

After all, it's only a small step from a 3-piece suit to a tux.

And so what if my heart skipped a beat when I saw him in the foyer outside the ballroom where the party was. And how my brain suddenly went blank for a moment when he saw me and flashed me that smile that would have a lesser woman melting into a little puddle on the floor.

But not me. I am Teresa Lisbon, hard-assed, straight-laced member of the California Bureau of Investigation. And state agents do _not_ fall for their jerk-off, smart-ass consultants.

Even though I was having a hard time keeping the smile off my face while he was on the stage doing magic tricks for the crowd at the benefit. He still manages to amaze me with his ability to have almost anyone eating out of the palm of his hand.

This has to stop. I have to get rid of these thoughts about him. The pleasurable feeling that comes up whenever I see him has to go away. I can't work like this for much longer.

Apparently all the murderers are on vacation this morning because so far, we don't have a case to solve.

I'm still in my office; Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt are in the kitchenette making coffee, but Jane's not here yet. That's weird; it's not like him to be late.

The office has been bustling with activity all morning, but suddenly it's gone silent.

Curious, I poke my head around the doorframe to see what's going on.

I should've known. Jane is what's going on.

Instead of his usual elegant attire, today he's in jeans and a blue shirt that I can't help but notice sets off his eyes perfectly. Every woman in the room is watching him, but he acts like he doesn't notice as he ambles casually out of the elevator towards his couch.

Damn the man. What right does he have to make casual clothes so…sexy? And he's done something to his hair that gives it a dishevelled, windswept kind of look. Of course, it just adds to his appeal. I wonder if…

No! Snap out of it, Teresa!

He spots me, and alters his course in my direction.

I go back inside my office and wait. Sure enough, he strolls in without knocking and claims the seat on the opposite side of my desk.

"What's with the new look?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Just felt like a change. Though I didn't expect it to cause such a stir." He grins at me. "Look. We match."

I look down and he's right of course. Damn it. If only I hadn't spilled coffee on my black pants yesterday.

No wait, not coffee, tea.

And I didn't spill it, Jane did.

Bastard.

He's done this on purpose I just know it.

"Don't we make an adorable couple?" he asks.

It takes all my restraint not to smile. The last thing he needs is encouragement.

"Not in a million years, Jane."

The grin doesn't fade one iota. " Lisbon, you wound me." He spots the pictures on the desk and seizes them.

He begins to flip through them but pauses.

"Oh I like this one," he says. "Tells a story, don't you think?"

He holds it up. It's the picture of the two of us fighting.

"Yes," I agree flatly. "The story of my epic struggle against your insanity."

He chuckles. "Feisty this morning," he observes. "Missed your breakfast cappuccino?"

I grunt, and he goes back to the photographs. There is silence for a few minutes.

"May I keep this one?" he asks, presently.

He's showing me one that I haven't noticed before. It's a photo of me, out on the balcony at the benefit. I'm looking out towards the city skyline, instead of the camera. It's not a bad picture, actually, I note with some surprise.

But wait a minute. I don't remember posing for this one. I tell Jane so.

"Of course you don't," he says. "I took it without you knowing."

"What?"

All of a sudden, the grin is gone. He actually looks nervous.

What the hell is going on here?

"The moonlight was very becoming on you." He's so quiet I have to strain to hear him. "It deserved to be immortalized on film."

I don't have a clue how I'm supposed to respond to this. I'm speechless.

"May I keep it?" he asks again.

My head nods of it's own accord. He gets up to leave.

"Why?" I manage to splutter out, just as he's about to disappear out the door. He turns around. Walks over to where I'm sitting. Offers me his hand. I accept it, and allow him to help me out of my chair so I'm at his level.

Big mistake. He's too close. Much too close. I can feel his breath on my neck. It's a pleasant sensation.

Slowly, he raises a hand and brushes a stray lock of hair off my face. His fingers graze my cheek and linger there.

"You're very beautiful Lisbon," he says. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that?"

I can't breathe. I can't think. It's like someone suddenly hit the 'pause' button on my life and I never, ever want it to 'play' again if it means I can stay in this moment.

Before I can manage to breathe normally again, he is gone, and has taken the photo with him.

Did that really just happen?

I sink back into my chair, trying to process the interaction that has just taken place. My skin still feels warm where he touched me. My heart's beating so fast it feels like it's about to explode out of my chest.

"Boss?"

It's Van Pelt.

"Got a call. There's a body been found in Sausalito."

I nod. "Tell everyone to get ready. Meet at the car in five minutes."

Three minutes for me to pull myself together, two to grab my stuff and get to the car.

"Yes, boss."

I watch her go to where Jane is feigning sleep on his couch and shake him. They converse briefly, before she goes to find Rigsby and Cho. He sits up, rubbing his eyes in an unconvincing show of drowsiness. He notices me watching him. He waves at me. Winks.

My heart leaps.

No.

I won't give in to this. I won't.

"Jane!" I bark at him, coming out of my office. "Get a move on!"

He gets to his feet and mock-salutes me. "Right away ma'am." He wanders over to the elevator and holds the door open for me.

It's just the two of us alone with nothing but the cheerful elevator music to break the silence. Jane hums along with the irritating melody while I try to think of ways to murder him without creating any mess or noise. It's safer then thinking about _that _moment.

His hand brushes mine and I ignore the tingling sensation it creates.

"I meant what I said, you know," he says to me. "You're much more beautiful then you realize."

Before I can say anything, the doors open and I can see the others through the window, standing by the car.

Jane smiles at me and goes to join them. I sigh.

It's going to be a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: The Mentalist isn't mine, nor anything associated with it. I'm not making any money from this story, it's purely for fun.**

**As requested by you wonderful reviewers, I have decided to add another chapter to this story, possibly more if the mood takes me. This chapter is in Jane's POV. **

I have to hand it to Lisbon, she's good. Very good. Any other woman would be ripping her clothes off by now and dragging me to the first semi-private area she could find.

But not my Teresa. She's going to pretend nothing's happened between us, that it's just business as usual. Nothing gets in the way of her work.

Seduction used to be so easy it was almost boring, but this delicious game of cat-and-mouse is just what I needed. Nothing piques my interest like a challenge, especially when the potential payoff of the love of Teresa Lisbon is on the table. And she sure keeps me on my toes. No matter how I try and charm her, she refuses to give in.

In fact, if her breath hadn't hitched just the tiniest bit when our hands 'accidentally' bumped together in the elevator just now, I might think that I was having no effect on her at all.

Which wouldn't be at all fair. The woman has no idea what she does to me just by being in the same room as I am. Especially at the benefit the other night when she was wearing that black dress that accentuated her body just right and made every heterosexual man in the vicinity want to throw himself at her feet.

Except for Rigsby of course. And Cho. Rigsby's only got eyes for Van Pelt and as for Cho, that would just be weird.

But Teresa Lisbon has had _me_ hypnotized for quite some time.

The team are all waiting by the Suburban when Lisbon and I come out of the building. She's digging around in her pocket for the keys and when she finds them, immediately hands them off to Cho.

Now this is intriguing. Normally, Lisbon insists on driving everywhere herself. I suspect it stems from her control issues she developed while taking care of her little brothers. Cho is as shocked as I've ever seen him. He's nearly crooked his left eyebrow the whole way.

Rigsby and Van Pelt's reactions aren't nearly as satisfying. She's using the window of the SUV as a mirror as she applies a fresh coat of lipstick. Rigsby's munching on a candy bar, while trying not to make it look like he's openly staring at her. It isn't working. Rigsby is in possession of many fine attributes, but subtlety is not one of them.

It appears that Cho has gotten over his shock and he climbs into the driver's seat. Lisbon takes the passenger side, leaving the rest of us to cram into the back. Just to annoy Rigsby, I sandwich myself in between him and Van Pelt. He glares at me as Cho starts the engine.

It's about a twenty-minute drive to the crime scene and during that time I discover another advantage to having the middle seat. When Lisbon happens to glance in the review mirror for some reason or other, her gaze automatically meets mine and she quickly looks away, embarrassed. This happens twice more before we arrive and each time I notice she holds my gaze for just a fraction longer then before. Good.

Darn it, we're here. I'm going to have to work my magic on her later. She gets out of the car and strides over to the crime scene tape, all business, a woman on a mission.

There's a local cop standing just inside the taped-off area meticulously peeling the label off his bottle of cola and completely ignoring what's going on around him. I can't help but grin as Lisbon makes a beeline for him. She's going to eat him alive.

I look on with satisfaction as she berates him for his inattention and demands to know who is in charge. He scowls at her.

"Look, lady, I don't know who the hell you think you are but you can't just come here and tell me how to do my job."

She opens her wallet and I watch with interest as the colour drains from his face when he sees her badge.

"Special Agent Teresa Lisbon, CBI," she says calmly. "This is my team. We're announced. Now go get your boss."

Without another word, the cop scurries away. I sneak a look at Lisbon. Her face gives away nothing but I don't have to be (fake) psychic to know what she's feeling right now. Triumph. No one messes with Teresa Lisbon and gets away with it. At least, no one except me.

After a short wait, a tall man with mousy brown hair approaches us, and addresses her.

"Agent Lisbon?"

She nods.

"Brandon McKay, Sausalito Homicide."

Oh man. I don't like the way he's looking at her, like Christmas has come early.

A brief, firm handshake.

"I want to sincerely apologize on behalf of Officer Charleston." He sighs. "Rookies…"

She dismisses the subject with a wave of her hand. "Don't worry about it. Lead the way, we've got work to do."

"Yes ma'am," he says, with what he seems to think is a winning smile. I think it looks more like a leer, myself. "Right this way."

I _really_ don't like the way he's looking at her. As she walks beside him, I notice his gaze travel all the way down her body and back again. So this joker thinks he's got a shot with her, huh? Not on my watch.

I hurry over and take my usual place by her side, breaking up their cozy little chat. Perhaps it wasn't really necessary to elbow him out of the way _quite_ so hard but luckily, Lisbon doesn't see.

"Detective McKay, this is Patrick Jane. He's a consultant."

"Consultant eh?" McKay sounds unimpressed. "And what exactly is your area of expertise?"

"Sniffing out liars, cheats and scumbags," I respond, lightly.

"Really?" he says skeptically. "And what if there are none?"

"Oh you'd be surprised Detective. Undesirable people can be found everywhere." I keep my tone casual but my pointed glare doesn't escape his notice, or Lisbon's, who quickly intervenes before things get out of hand.

"Mr Jane has very keen observational skills that have been crucial to cracking a lot of our cases. Unfortunately those skills don't appear to apply to a social conscience."

At this point, one of the forensic techs calls out to McKay and while they're talking, Lisbon turns to me.

"That's enough," she hisses, so only I can hear her. "We've only been here five seconds and you've already pissed off our liaison officer."

"Meh. He doesn't even care. He's been far too busy checking you out."

I can't quite keep the little tinge of bitterness out of my voice as I say this. Lisbon scoffs.

"Don't be ridiculous Jane."

"I'm serious! He hasn't been able to take his eyes off you since we got here."

And personally I'd like to put as much distance between the two of them as I can.

"Jane, stop!" she snaps at me. "This is a crime scene. I don't want to hear one more word out of you unless it's case-related. Understood?"

God, she's sexy when she's angry. She tosses her hair over her shoulder irritably, and I'm momentarily distracted by the exposed skin of her neck, wondering what it would be like to kiss it, and whether it's as soft as it looks.

But it seems I'm not the only one.

McKay is back, and he's watching her with a slightly punch-drunk expression of fascination, reminiscent of the way Rigsby always looks at Van Pelt.

Well he can just get a grip, I think savagely to myself. He's way back in the queue.

He opens his mouth to say something, but I hurriedly cut him off.

"C'mon Lisbon. Do you want to stand around chatting or get started?" I grab her hand and pull her away from McKay towards where a lot of cops are milling around, and I can hear cameras clicking.

She snatches her hand out of my grasp. "What's gotten into you today?" she demands angrily. Without waiting for an answer, she stalks off to where Cho is standing by the victim.

Now she's safe from McKay's predatory clutches, I can finally turn my attention to the victim. She's a pretty young Caucasian woman, mid-to-late twenties. She's wearing a short skirt, strappy top and high heels but she's not tall enough for a model and she doesn't look the type to be a hooker so I'd say she works at a fashion store. Too old to be just an assistant so management perhaps? There's an engagement ring on her finger from which I glean two things, Number one, robbery can't have been a motive and number two, she was in love too, just like me.

But it looks like she was lucky enough to have someone that loved her back. Sometimes I think that Lisbon must be the only woman on Earth immune to my charms and is it really worth all this hassle? And then she turns those gorgeous green eyes in my direction and my doubts disappear in a puff of smoke.

When I told her she was beautiful this morning, I wasn't spinning a line, I meant it. Every word. And I just want her to see me as more than an inconvenience, foisted on her on by the powers that be.

It probably isn't right for me to pursue her like this, as I can't yet manage to open myself up completely. There are still things that I'm not ready to talk about, things I need to do before I can even think about going back to the person I used to be.

But at the same time, I can't handle the idea of her being with anybody else. I want her all to myself, all the time and I'll be damned if I let some moron like McKay take her from me.

She comes over to me now, with McKay in tow, wanting to know my thoughts. I narrow my eyes at him and she shoots me one of her patented 'keep your mouth shut or else' looks. I relay all my theories to her and she writes them down before turning to McKay for confirmation.

The victim is ID'd as Justine Lyons, twenty-six. She was reported missing a week ago, disappearing while heading home from the small boutique in town where she worked as the assistant manager. Engaged to Mark Ackerman, a successful architect. They were due to marry in July.

Predictably, McKay seems both impressed and a little miffed at the accuracy of my observations. On any other case I would slip in some off-hand remark about his lack of faith in me but the look in Lisbon's eyes tells me that isn't going to fly so I keep my silence.

The body is finally loaded into the coroner's van, ready to be taken to the morgue. Cho, Van Pelt, Rigsby and I wait by the car for Lisbon to join us. After a few minutes, she does, leaving behind McKay. I scrutinize his face and see that he looks very disappointed about something. Excellent.

"Cho, I'm driving," she declares. He tosses her the keys, and she climbs into the driver's seat. That's my girl. Madam Control-Freak is back.

But she wouldn't be my Lisbon if she were any other way.

On the way back, Lisbon is fully concentrating on the road, Rigsby is enraptured in Van Pelt again and Cho is staring expressionlessly out the window so no-one notices when I pull the photograph I took from Lisbon this morning out of my pocket.

It really is a beautiful picture. To me, she looks like a goddess, bathed in the silvery glow of the moonlight.

It's sad that this is as close as I'll probably ever get to making her mine. Photographs are great, but nothing compares to the real thing. No camera could capture the way her eyes flash when she's angry, or sparkle when she's laughing.

She's attracted to me, I know she is. Our little interlude in her office this morning confirmed that. But if I know Lisbon, she'll never admit to it. I guess I'll just have to be content with adoring her from afar.

Being in love really sucks sometimes.

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It's late afternoon now and everyone is really looking forward to going home. Lisbon and I had to go and inform the victim's fiancé of what has happened and I know she hates that. It breaks her heart to inflict such pain on anyone.

On the upside, I'm certain we can rule Ackerman out as a suspect. When I looked in his eyes, I saw genuine shock and deep sorrow and nobody could fake that. He also mentioned Justine was having problems with someone at work, Emily Dryer so we arranged for her to come in tomorrow.

It's been a tough day for everyone but no one is showing the strain more then Lisbon. She's barely said a word in the last half-hour and she's knocking back coffee like it's about to become illegal. She doesn't even notice when I leave for an hour while they all trudge through files.

At 6pm exactly she sends everyone home and retreats wearily into her office. I wait for about thirty seconds and then follow her in.

"What is it, Jane?" she asks not even bothering to snap.

"I have something for you."

"I hope it's an all expenses paid trip to Hawaii."

Actually that's not a bad idea. White sandy beaches, clear water, Lisbon in a bikini, a very, very pleasant picture indeed. Definitely something to consider.

"Unfortunately not. But I have the next best thing."

I place a plate in front of her, piled high with the reddest, plumpest strawberries I could find along with some cream on the side and just a sprinkling of sugar.

Her face lights up.

"Thought these would cheer you up," I continue as she reaches for the plate.

"Thanks, Jane," That's all I need to hear to know that for the first time today, I've done something right.

I want to stay, but I know she'll want some time to herself to think about the day so I just grin at her and wish her goodnight.

Halfway down the hall, I hear her voice again,

"Jane, wait."

I pause and when she catches up to me, to my surprise she throws her arms around me in a friendly hug. "Thanks," she repeats, not quite reaching my eyes. Before I can stop myself I plant a quick kiss on her forehead.

"See you tomorrow."

She nods once, and then heads back to her office.

In my pocket I feel the photograph. There's a silver frame on the mantelpiece at home that has been empty for years. I think it's finally time to fill it.

**Please leave a few lines with your thoughts; I love getting feedback, good or bad. Reviews are to me what strawberries are to Lisbon. I love them!!!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: As if I would be cool or rich enough to own something as awesome as The Mentalist. Get real. Same applies to anything else that is recognizable.**

**Rating: T due to some suggestive themes. Implied, not explicit.**

**Lisbon POV.**

Not for the first time since Patrick Jane came into my life, I find myself questioning the Lord as to how He could be so very cruel.

Why am I being tested like this? What did I do wrong in a past life in order to deserve having Patrick Jane be foisted on me? Just when I think I'm starting to get a handle on the man, he goes and does something that makes me doubt everything I thought I knew about him.

Things started out typically enough. I spent most of the day today trying to keep a lid on his usual jackassery while we processed the crime scene. Once or twice my hand floated almost longingly to my gun and it took all my self-control not to pull it out and shoot him. Not to kill of course, but maybe just an arm or a leg, anything just to wipe that infuriating "I'm-all–that" grin he's forever sporting off his face. Or at the very least, I could've hit him over the head with it.

But no. As usual I managed to reign myself in. Really, I deserve an award, or a massive pay rise if I'm going to be expected to put up with this total idiocy day in and day out.

But on the whole, it was a pretty run-of-the-mill day with my totally insane consultant.

It was what happened next that was the kicker.

He came to my office after everyone had gone to 'cheer me up', or so he claimed. Normally how this goes is he turns up out of the blue with a peace offering of some kind (strawberries today) and that awkward half-smile he only puts on when he's begging my forgiveness for the millionth time.

Luckily, he hasn't yet seemed to have figured out that when that half-smile morphs into a real one I can barely remember my own name, let alone whatever it is I was mad at him about. And I swear if he ever finds out, I'm on the next plane to Antarctica and I'm never coming back. Ever.

But today things went a little differently. After he managed to win me over in about three minutes, he left. I went after him to say thank you. And then it happened.

He kissed me. Patrick Jane kissed _me. _

I'm still trying to get my head around this as he melts away into the darkness of the corridor, like a phantom. Oddly appropriate, considering the way he haunts my dreams most nights. Of course some of those dreams are more…pleasurable then others, so to speak. Like last night for instance when I dreamed the two of us got stuck in the elevator and…

Whoa, _extremely_ dangerous train of thought right there. It's gotten hot in here all of a sudden and I can feel my blood pressure reaching a level that can't possibly be healthy.

Why does he affect me this way? It was only a kiss on the forehead for heaven's sake and here I am, leaning against the corridor wall, trying to remember how to breathe.

Oh God, I need a drink. A very, very stiff drink. I swear the man is hazardous to my health.

Slowly, coherent thoughts are making their way back into my frazzled brain and in the interest of my mental and physical health, I come to a decision. This has gone on long enough. I am going to kick this ridiculous infatuation with Patrick Jane if it's the last thing I do.

As of now, I will see him as simply a colleague and subordinate. He is a useful member of the team, a valued asset and nothing more or less.

I can do this. I can. Project Jane-Detox begins now.

But then I remember the way his lips felt on my skin and the tiny amount of resolve I managed to conjure up shatters like glass.

Well, maybe I can start tomorrow.

* * *

I walk through the office in a state of Zen-like calm. So far, my Jane-Detox is going well, even if I've been reduced to avoiding him as much as possible, to the point of nearly diving into my office when he swaggered out of the elevator like some blond, well-dressed cat who just got the canary.

Emily Dryer has just arrived and Rigsby is handling the initial interview. She seems pretty shaken up by Justine's death and for some reason emotional people just don't seem to mesh well with Cho's in-your-face interrogation technique. Go figure.

Instead he is fielding the numerous tip-offs from the 'concerned citizens' of California, whom I expect are more inclined to acknowledge their civic responsibility due to the reward being offered by Ackerman for information on his fiancée's death.

Van Pelt is busy trawling through the couple's finances and with Ackerman's two architecture firms, as well as his considerable family fortune, it'll keep her occupied for most of the day.

Jane of course, is on his couch, engrossed in a Sudoku puzzle. Just once, it would be so good to see him using his time _usefully _for a change. I sigh in exasperation as he painstakingly fills in another square. God forbid he should take on any actual work. I think I'd die of shock.

A knock at the door and Rigsby comes in. He looks troubled.

"How's it going with Dryer?" I enquire.

"She's definitely upset, and she admits there was friction between her and the victim but she's holding out on me, boss. I think we need to send Jane in."

"Keep trying, she'll give it up eventually," I say encouragingly. Anything to avoid having to actually talk to my consultant. I'm really not in the right frame of mind at the moment.

"I can't find an angle to get at her," Rigsby persists. "Anytime I even touch on her relationship with Justine, she clams up."

I sigh. Why me?

"Fine," I respond, shortly. "Go back to her and I'll tell Jane."

"Yes boss."

He leaves.

OK Teresa, deep breath. You are a calm, objective professional. You will simply tell Jane what you need him to do and then send him out. You will not engage in his childish games in any way.

Cool, calm, collected. I repeat it like a mantra.

Pulse rate: steady. Blood pressure: normal.

One, two, three.

"JANE!"

In a flash, he's leaning against my doorframe, hands in pockets, grinning like the Cheshire Cat on steroids.

"You called, senorita?"

"Rigsby wants your help with Dryer."

"Anything for you."

Of course, it's too much to hope for that he will leave me alone that easily. He absent-mindedly runs a hand through his hair as he continues to survey me.

In my dream the other night, it was my hand running through those soft, blond curls… No Teresa! Mind on the job.

Pulse: Quickening. Blood pressure: Rising.

This is going to be harder then I thought. The man oozes charm without even trying. No ordinary woman would stand a chance when he set his sights on her. Not that I'd be stupid enough to actually think he would have the slightest interest in me, he could have his pick of anybody. I'm OK but I'm no Miss America after all.

I know I shouldn't care about Jane's taste in women, but I feel my mood sink a bit at the thought of him flashing that smile at someone else. She'd probably be tall and blonde and drop-dead gorgeous, everything I'm not. As much as I want to pretend this doesn't upset me, I feel a slight pang.

No, shake it off Teresa. The aim is get him out of my head, not to think about him more.

"Rigsby's waiting for you. Get going."

He looks the tiniest bit taken aback at the sudden dismissal.

"Something wrong?" he asks, scrutinizing my face for some kind of clue.

"No. Why would there be?" I say, more forcefully then I mean to.

"Now, now. Sharing is caring my little buttercup. So why don't I make you a nice cup of tea and you can tell me all about it."

I _hate_ it when he uses that patronizing tone, it really does bring out the worst in me. But he just doesn't seem to realize that I want him out of my office. Now. Either that, or he doesn't care.

My money's on the latter.

"I have a better idea," I snap. "Why don't _you _do as you're told for once in your life and go give Rigsby a hand!" I'm almost shouting now, and the grin starts to waver a bit.

"Okay, I'll bite. What have I done this time?"

"Jane, just you being yourself is enough to make me want to have myself committed."

He frowns thoughtfully. "That's a little vague there, Lisbon. Anything specifically bugging you, besides the apparent rudeness of my very existence?"

"I couldn't even begin to know where to start," I respond, wearily. "Now will you please go help Rigsby?"

"If you insist."

"I insist. Last time I checked, that's what we're paying you for."

"What? Helping Rigsby? That's a task for someone far greater than I. The man is an emotional train wreck just waiting to happen."

Don't laugh. It'll only make it worse.

"You're a consultant. Go…consult." And for the love of all that is holy, get out of my office. I can't be held accountable for my actions with you standing there, looking like you've just finished modelling for GQ Magazine. I mean seriously, how much temptation should one woman have to endure?

"Sure. Ciao, bella." He winks at me and disappears out the door.

Spanish _and_ Italian endearments? Spare me.

Groaning I slump onto the desk, resisting the temptation to bang my head against it repeatedly. Nicely done, Teresa. Well played.

The idea was to take back some control in this weird little relationship of ours but instead all I managed to do is make myself look like a total nutcase. This is going to be hard work.

You know things are bad when _Jane_ begins to look like the sane one.

The phone rings, breaking me out of my Jane-haze.

"Lisbon."

"Agent Lisbon! How's the case going?" The overeager voice of Detective McKay assaults my ears.

"We're working on it, Detective McKay."

"Please Agent Lisbon, call me Brandon. Anyway my boys have come up with a few theories that I thought I'd run by you. Got a few minutes?"

"Sure. Let's hear them."

The next fifteen minutes pass on case talk and I have to admit Sausalito Homicide have some good leads.

"We'll get cracking on these first thing in the morning. Thanks Detec…uh Brandon."

"My pleasure. Keep in touch."

He rings off and I heave a sigh of relief. As usual, Jane was right about him. When he cornered me at the crime scene yesterday and asked me out, I mumbled some garbled excuse about not dating during a case. The truth is, I wouldn't go out with the guy if you paid me.

"Brandon?" An incredulous voice says from the doorway.

Patrick Jane cuts a formidable figure with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

"Since when are you and McKay on first-name terms?" he demands to know.

"Jane didn't you ever see 'The Little Mermaid?' You mustn't lurk in doorways. It's rude."

"The Little Mermaid was my daughter's favourite movie," he says quietly, and I can hear the thinly disguised pain in his voice.

There is silence for a moment as the tense moment hangs in the air.

"Justine Lyons caught Emily Dryer stealing from the till at the boutique they worked at," he informs me. "She reported it to the owner even though Emily begged her not to. Now she's on probation."

"Do you think Dryer killed her?"

"No."

"How do you know?"

"I looked in her eyes. I didn't see a murderous spirit there."

"OK, anything a little more concrete?"

"She has an alibi for the time of the murder."

"Which is?"

"She was in a disciplinary meeting about the cash she stole. Ironic huh?"

"Is someone going to vouch for that?"

"Rigsby's looking into it right now, but seems to me that's she's a dead end."

I nod once, which he takes as invitation to come inside and sit down.

"What did McKay want?" There's something a little off about his tone, his voice is a tad higher then normal and he's looking at me with such intensity that I feel that I should look away.

"Gave me a list of people we should look at. Seems like Justine Lyons had quite a few enemies."

"Of course. Attractive, wealthy young women often have to bear the jealous barbs of other women, as well as the rejected pride of other men that they have spurned."

"I guess being rich isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Not sure about that. The benefits far outweigh the drawbacks in most cases. So," he adds casually. "Did McKay say anything else?"

I shake my head.

"No renewal of his offer from yesterday?"

"Nope."

"Ah. I expect he's biding his time until the case is closed, then you can't blow him off with the same excuse as before."

Why the sudden interest in McKay? I can't help but wonder. Unless…but no, it can't be…

"I didn't blow him off."

"Yes you did."

"Didn't."

"Did."

"Fine, if he asks again, I'll go out with him. Happy?"

A strange expression passes over his face. "Only if you are."

Oh my God. He's jealous. There's no other explanation. But that must mean…he loves me!

A big part of me wants to lock the door, pin him to my desk and have my way with him. I've been longing to taste those lips for real and I'm dying to find out what kind of body he's hiding under those three-piece suits.

A bigger part of me says to wait a while and let things play out.

He loves me, but he just isn't man enough to say so. Well, two can play at this game.

I'm going to drive him crazy. I'm going to make him want me so badly he's not going to have a clue what to do about it, and just when he thinks he's made a breakthrough I'll pull back, just like he's been doing to me all this time. Let's see how he likes it.

Project Jane-Detox is over. I wasn't going to stick to it anyway. Just like the diet I went on in tenth grade and then caved in and ate chocolate cake on the very first day.

I hope he can handle what I'm going to throw his way, because I'm playing for keeps.

**Pretty, pretty please review. Tell me what you liked/didn't like/ hated with a fiery passion so I can tailor the story accordingly.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I'm sure intelligent people such as yourselves have figured out by now that I don't own anything, so I don't need to say it, right?**

**Rating: T**

**This chapter is mostly in Lisbon's POV but Jane will have his say as well. The POV shift will be labelled accordingly.**

**Thanks to all my reviewers, especially those who gave constructive criticism. Your input is much appreciated.**

**Lisbon POV**

I try to hold my coffee steady as I squash myself into the elevator with the usual weekday-morning crowd. Since Serious Crimes is on one of the top floors I like to stand at the back of the elevator to save having to get out and in again at every floor.

Through the crush of black suits, I see a slight glimpse of blond curls. No one else at the bureau has hair like that. Sure enough, once I've shoved my way to the back, it is to find Jane leaning against the wall.

I make sure to brush against him as I stand beside him so he'll get the maximum effect from the perfume I so carefully applied this morning. The label promised that it would "draw any man into your web of seduction" or some nonsense like that, so I thought, 'what the hell? I'll give it a try.'

His eyes take on a slightly glazed look for a fraction of a second before going back to normal. Now I may be new at this whole 'seductress' thing but I'm pretty sure that's a good sign.

"Morning Jane,"

"Lisbon."

The elevator starts to ascend.

"That's nice perfume. Is it new?" he asks casually.

"Yes. It was a gift."

"From whom?"

"Just a guy I know."

It was a free sample from a magazine in truth, but I'm keeping that piece of information to myself. Let him think I've got some mysterious boyfriend somewhere buying me presents, that'll rile him up nicely.

Aha. He's got that gleam in his eyes that he had the other day when I was with McKay, and his jaw is set in the kind of way when he's trying to stop himself from saying something. This is a very good start.

The elevator grinds to a stop at the third floor. Some of the crowd gets out and two people get in. A man, with his nose buried in a case file and a woman. At the sight of the woman I suppress a groan.

Mia "Man-Eater" Tremaine has honey blonde hair and ice-blue eyes she inherited from her mother, which seems to have given her the idea that she is God's gift to men. Over the year she's been employed here she's set her sights on nearly every man in the building (other than those in the Fraud department where she works) which is how the CBI women came to coin the nickname "Man-Eater."

I never used to take much notice of Mia until last month when her man-hunting crosshairs got my consultant in their sights. Easily the best-looking man in the building, Jane is quite used to the admiring glances he gets from the women as he passes by, and he just can't resist flirting with her in the elevator a little on the way to work. Attention-seeking bastard.

"Good morning, Patrick," she purrs as I do my best not to roll my eyes.

"Hello Mia, how are you?" he asks pleasantly, smiling at her. But I notice that the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. Being charming is just like an automatic reflex for him, like breathing or blinking.

"So how's life in Serious Crimes? Working on anything interesting?"

Oh for God's sake woman, stop batting your eyelashes like that, you look like you're having a seizure.

"Always," he responds. Strange, he's being very non-receptive to her this morning. I might be able to get all the way upstairs without feeling like projectile vomiting.

Mia looks at him in confusion, waiting for Jane's usual schmaltz about how nice her hair looks this morning or something, but to both of our amazement he turns to me instead.

"Any news on the case yet, Lisbon?"

I shake my head. "Not yet. We can get an update when everyone arrives."

"I've been thinking that we might have to delve a little further into the victim's world. See who her friends are and how well they all get along. I have an idea of how we can do that."

What kind of idea?" I ask warily.

He smiles, a real one this time. "It's devilishly clever and cunning. You'll see, it's going to be so much fun!" His eyes are shining with excitement and I can't help smiling back at him even though I'm worried about what horrors he has in store for me this time.

Mia tries in vain to recapture his attention but he says nothing more for the rest of the ride up, probably working on his plan. She looks so shocked I take an extra-large swig of coffee to keep myself from laughing; she's probably never been ignored like that in her life. I'm glad. She deserves to be taken down a branch or two. Or maybe just be thrown off the whole tree altogether. Either way.

Jane and I get off the elevator together and he opens the door to the office for me as usual. This chivalrous streak of his is certainly one of his better qualities. If he does those kinds of things for me, a colleague, I'll bet his wife was treated like a queen. I glance back over my shoulder just in time to see the elevator doors close on Mia's outraged face and can't suppress a smirk.

If she knows what's good for her, she'll take the hint and keep her greedy hands off him from now on. This little game is between Jane and me, and there's no room for anyone else.

A quarter of an hour later, once all my team have arrived (and I manage to pry Rigsby away from the fridge) we assemble for a progress check.

Van Pelt's digging has uncovered nothing amiss in Justine and Mark's finances. Rigsby has spoken to the boutique manager who confirmed Emily's alibi for the murder and Cho got nothing useful from the myriad of tip-off calls, so it's time to pursue some new leads.

"Sausalito P.D sent over a list of names to check," I tell them all, handing out photocopies. "Seems like our girl ticked off a lot of people."

I hold one out to Jane, who looks at it like a committed vegan being offered a ticket to an all-you-can-eat buffet at a steakhouse.

"And what do you propose I do with this, my dear? Make a friend for your little jumping frog?"

"Funny. Read it, and see if anything jumps out at you."

"From a list of names?" he whines. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not actually psychic?"

"About as many times as I have to tell _you_ not to interrupt interviews, undermine me in front of suspects, hypnotize people…"

"Is this about getting me to read the list, or point-scoring?" he counters, flashing me that knee-buckling grin, and I have another one of those moments when I don't know if I'd rather grab him and kiss him senseless, or grab him and snap his neck.

"Luckily for you, I'm powerless before your wishes," he continues, whipping the piece of paper out of my hand.

Oh if only we could be alone right now, then he might find out about another wish I have… concerning me and him and my desk. Or his couch. Or the elevator. Or the backseat of my car. Or…

Steady, Teresa. Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves.

He carries the form over to his couch and sits down to read it. I'm so pleased; I can't help smiling at him. Maybe there's hope for him after all.

"Boss? Are you OK?" Van Pelt sounds concerned for my mental health as I realize I have been staring at Jane for over a minute.

"I'm OK," I say hastily.

"Jane doing paperwork," says Cho blankly. "It's one for the history books."

"Maybe we should get a plaque or something," suggests Rigsby. "To commemorate this momentous day." Van Pelt giggles at this, and he beams at her.

"Or maybe," I interject." You three could follow his lead and get started on this list." I tap it with the pencil I'm holding. "Divide it up amongst yourselves and work out who's most likely to have done something like this. Cross-check criminal records and see if anything doesn't add up. Get to it."

"Yes boss," they chorus, like schoolchildren greeting their teacher at the beginning of the day.

They file out of my office, giving me an unobscured view of Jane, deeply absorbed in the list with a slight frown of concentration on his face. Sometimes I wonder what he's thinking about when he goes quiet like this. Then I usually decide I probably don't want to know.

* * *

**  
Jane POV**

Good God this is so boring. This is why I always avoid paperwork when I can. I read the twelve names over and over again but no great flash of inspiration comes to mind.

Over the top of the sheet I can see Lisbon in her office, tapping away at her computer. The little cross necklace she always wears sparkles in the sunlight as she leans back in her chair, stretching her arms towards the ceiling.

I throw the paper down in irritation. She could at least have the decency to shut the door. As if I could be interested in some words and numbers when I could be watching the fascinating way she twirls a pencil in her fingers when she can't think of what to write. Whether she knows it or not, she's incredibly distracting.

At least from over here I'm out of reach of that tantalizing perfume. It's one of the most alluring scents I've ever experienced, but if I'm being honest, it doesn't smell like _her. _I prefer the clean, simple scents she normally uses like musk or vanilla, or cinnamon of course. This floral concoction she's got on today is fussy and flighty, not like her at all.

Whoever bought it for her is an idiot. Probably some jerk she dated for a while who tried to bribe her into staying with him by buying her the most expensive perfume he could find, not even knowing or caring that the one he chose didn't suit her in the slightest.

Whoever he is, he's obviously not good enough even to know my Lisbon, let alone be with her.

She's on the phone now, smiling. God I love that smile. I could look at it all day.

Suddenly, stupidly, I feel envious of whoever is on the other end of the phone. Her attention should be on her work, or on me and nowhere else. What makes this person so special?

Her voice floats through the open door. "Thanks again, Brandon. I really appreciate your help."

It's McKay. Ugh.

"If there's anything we can do for you in return, just let us know," she goes on, and then promptly hangs up and returns to her computer.

Without turning away from the screen, she calls out to me.

"Take a picture, Jane. It'll last longer."

Oh, I've so got her now.

"I already did. Remember?"

She freezes, hands poised over the keys. Though I can't see it, I picture that endearing blush that's probably just creeping up over her cheeks right now.

Didn't see that one coming did you, sweetheart?

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

OK I admit I set myself up for that one. As usual my attempt to humiliate him was swiftly turned around back on me within a microsecond.

Why do I even bother?

Oh thank goodness, here comes Rigsby, looking pleased with himself.

"We found something, Lisbon."

Excellent. Work. I can deal with work.

"What do you got?"

"Two possibilities. Mackenzie Watson and Amanda Seine. Our victim pressed charges against both of them over the past year."

"For what?"

"Watson was Mark Ackerman's ex-girlfriend. He left her for Justine and she couldn't deal with it. Started following her around, sending threatening messages, stuff like that."

"Any violence?"

"No, but she did break into their house and stole some jewellery and cash. Justine took out an AVO against her."

"And Seine?"

"They got into an argument at a party one night. Things got heated, a lot of champagne was consumed and Seine ended up slapping her in the face. And the next day Justine slapped _her _with an assault charge."

"Justine and Mark's lawyer could retire at forty with the money he was making off all these lawsuits," I comment. I knew I should've gone to law school. "What do you think?" I ask.

"I think Watson's the most likely. Why don't we invite her down here for a little chat?"

"All right. Set it up."

"Yes, boss."

Once Rigsby is gone I can see Jane, still on his couch. I call him in; he shuts the door behind him and takes his usual seat, waiting expectantly for me to begin.

"Mackenzie Watson and Amanda Seine. Any thoughts?"

He shrugs. "Mackenzie's a modern name while Amanda is a slightly more traditional one…"

"Can it, smartass. Any _relevant_ thoughts?"

"What do you expect me to say, Lisbon? I can't just stare at a sheet of paper and try and map out a picture of a living person. I need to talk with them, see them. Connect."

"Connect huh? What do you mean by that?"

"You know, try and be one with them, find out what makes them tick."

"Oh, you mean find out how to press their buttons. Manipulate them into doing what you want."

"In a manner of speaking."

"I see. Mind if I try?"

He grins again. "Be my guest."

"How to connect with Patrick Jane?" I wonder aloud.

"Many have tried and failed."

I drum my fingers on the desk, thinking hard. There has to be _some _way to get under his skin.

"Well yelling at you doesn't seem to help, so I don't think just verbal connection is enough for you. I'd be going for a more direct approach."

"OK Dr. Freud," he teases, eyes sparkling with laughter. "Show me how it's done."

"Well first I'd have to throw you off your game by getting into your personal space like _this._"

Before he knows what's happening I've circled around the desk and am standing as close behind him as I dare, my face a breath away from his. I can see the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

He swallows. "And then?''

"Well by now you would be theoretically very uncomfortable so I would try to calm your nerves a little like _this._"

I lay my hand ever so lightly on his shoulder allowing my fingers to trail down his arm just the tiniest bit. He jolts like I've just given him an electric shock.

He nods, apparently having lost the capacity to speak.

"Sometimes when people get very upset I have to try and comfort them just so we can get what we need. In that case, I'd probably do _this."_

I slide my hand slowly down his arm and take his hand in mine. Our fingers interlock automatically.

I lean down to whisper in his ear.

"Everything's going to be all right."

Abruptly, he turns his face towards mine. "Lisbon…" he breathes. He leans towards me, as if in slow motion. His eyes close. The gap between us is shortening, shortening, the moment so close now I can almost taste it…

At the very last second I jerk my head away and stand up straight again. It takes him a second or two to work out what has happened and his features are a mixture of confusion and disappointment.

This is exactly what I was hoping for. See Jane? It isn't nice to toy with people's emotions.

"Hmmm, I think I'm starting to see how this whole 'connection' thing works," I say off-handedly, leaning across the desk for the case file. "Maybe I'll give it a go sometime."

Jane says nothing, speechless for once in his life.

"Well come on," I instruct him, giving him a hard prod in the arm. "Let's go see if Rigsby has managed to track down Watson's home address yet."

Jane nods once, obediently rises from his chair and lumbers after me, zombie-like, out of my office.

This seduction stuff is fun, not to mention easier then I thought. I should've done this ages ago.

Cho and Van Pelt are standing by Rigsby who is on the phone so they don't notice us enter.

There's a light tap on my shoulder.

"I made you a friend for your frog after all," he says in a hoarse voice appropriate to having been lost in a desert.

He hands something to me, made out of the list of names he was supposed to be studying. A bird of some kind, but not a crane.

"A swan for a swan," he explains.

"Thanks." I slip it into my pocket. "Now let's get some actual work done, yes?"

He nods and glances over at where Rigsby is apparently on hold.

I think it's safe to say I won this round. Game, set and match to me.

And victory is oh-so-sweet.

**As always, I eagerly await hearing from you. Was Lisbon too forward? Did Jane not respond in a way you thought was appropriate? Please review!!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Still isn't mine, nor will it ever be.**

**Rating: T**

**This chapter also in multiple POV's. Transitions are labelled.**

**I hope you like it!!!**

**Jane POV**

I feel like I'm coming down from the world's most intense drug trip. My senses are dulled, and my mind seems to be working at about half it's usual capacity, though that's probably because it's full to bursting with thoughts of_ her._

I think I just stumbled upon the most potent cocktail in my world, and it's in the shape of one woman.

Did I miss something here? When did Lisbon, _my _Lisbon, morph into such a temptress? Don't get me wrong, it was unbelievably sexy but I must admit I wasn't expecting it. How she expects me to be able to keep my hands off her now, is beyond me. As I watch her talking to Cho, I can think of nothing else but the kiss we almost shared.

What bothers me the most is that _she_ was the one to pull away. I always imagined that if the two of us got into a situation like that, it would be me that broke it off. I always thought I'd feel too guilty to go through with it. But at that moment all I could think about was finally getting to experience what I'd been fantasizing about for months now. It seems silly, feeling guilty for _not _feeling guilty, but I just can't help it.

But she pulled away from me. Why?

Perhaps I misread her. A rare occurrence, yes, but it has been known to happen from time to time.

I take a moment to mull that over while she's still safely occupied with Cho. Could I actually have been mistaken about something?

No. Impossible. I'm never wrong about things like this; I know there's some attraction there. I'm certain of it.

"Jane?" Suddenly, her voice snaps me back to reality.

She approaches me and the sunlight hits her hair, making it shine like an angel's halo. It's beautiful.

"Mackenzie Watson is on her way down here. You want to sit in on the interview?"

I shake my head. "Let Cho or Van Pelt do it. I'd prefer it if Miss Watson didn't see you or I just yet."

"Why?" she asks suspiciously.

"I told you this morning. I have a plan."

"I really hate it when you do this," she complains. "All this evasiveness, it's extremely irritating." She glares at me. "Would it kill you to let me in on what you're thinking once in a while?"

"All in good time."

"Fine, be a jerk. You're a jerk to everyone else, so why should I be an exception?"

I gaze right into those green eyes and it feels like they're looking through me, into my soul. It's a tad unsettling. "You Lisbon, are always the exception."

There, let her make what she will of that. And I think I spot the tiniest hint of red on her cheek as she sighs, wheels around and stomps back over to Cho. Excellent.

I don't know what exactly passed between us in her office just now, but I can feel that something has changed. It's in the way she smiled at me after it happened, like she knows something I don't. It's like she wants me to try again.

I don't like all these mixed messages. One minute she's freezing me out, and the next she's parading around me, practically screaming 'take me now.' It's extremely confusing.

Well, if she wants to play games, I'm happy to oblige. I like games. I especially like games that I can win. Which is most of them.

But there's a nagging little thought in the back of my mind. What if this isn't a game?

If the time comes, am I going to be able to give her what we both seem to want? Am I ready to let go of the past, in order to embrace the possibility of a future with the woman I adore?

I sneak another look at her as she tells Cho and Rigsby to get down to the interrogation room so they can interview Mackenzie Watson.

"Jane, you coming?" Rigsby asks me.

"No, I'll stay behind the mirror this time, see what I can find out from her body language. Might come in handy later."

Rigsby looks impressed, but Cho just shrugs.

"Whatever, man. C'mon Rigsby."

Once they've gone, and Van Pelt is back at her desk, Lisbon turns back to me, arms folded.

"You're angry," I observe.

"Oh very good. You are truly the master interpreter of body language," she deadpans.

"Why thank you Lisbon. Of course, I knew that already but to have it confirmed by you is just the icing on the cake," I smile innocently at her.

Her face remains impassive. Note to self: limit the amount of time she spends with Cho from now on. She's no fun when she gets like this.

"Do me a favour and deflate that massive head of yours so we can get into the elevator without exceeding the maximum weight limit," she snaps. "Watson and her lawyer are already here."

She stalks off and I hurry after her, managing to catch up just as the doors start to close. I grunt as they slam into my sides and Lisbon stifles a laugh.

Really. It wasn't_ that_ funny.

**Lisbon POV**

The CBI building is dark and silent. The only light comes from my small desk lamp as I squint at my computer screen, ignoring the tiredness prickling at my eyes.

Mackenzie's fancy-pants lawyer instructed her not to say anything the moment she sat down and she heeded his advice. Rigsby and Cho worked on her for nearly two hours and came up with nothing.

Of course, Mr Body-Language-Extraordinaire found all of this highly amusing but didn't offer to assist or anything like that, preferring just to lurk in the corner and smirk every so often.

Long story short, we had to cut her loose and I sent them all home early. I was half-expecting Jane to stick around because I know he prefers the stillness of the CBI to the eerie silence and personal ghosts that always haunt him whenever he's at home.

Tonight however, he seemed like he didn't have a care in the world as he cheerfully said goodnight to everyone and left. Or maybe he's just gotten better at hiding it. Whatever.

The text on the screen slides in and out of focus as I battle with the crippling exhaustion. I'm trying to do a little background research on Mackenzie so the next time we pull her in, we know how best to approach her but so far it's proving difficult. Ordinarily, I'd leave this kind of work to Van Pelt but given the choice of this, or going home to a lonely apartment with nothing but fantasies for company, give me work every time.

I can feel my eyelids beginning to droop, but I am determined not to succumb to my body's desire for sleep. Sleep is for the weak. Mind over matter.

The clock at the bottom of the screen tells me that it's well past midnight and I can no longer be sure if I'm reading English or some bizarre kind of hieroglyphics as the whole world looks like it's underwater. I blink a few times, but my vision doesn't clear.

It can't hurt if I close my eyes for a little while. Just for a minute, and then I'll get back to work. Honest.

I'll just lean back in my chair a bit and get myself more comfortable against the headrest. It's healthy to take breaks every now and then.

Just for a minute….

**Jane POV**

The early morning light trickles through the windows of the CBI building. There's a feeling of tranquillity to the air, as though it's quietly anticipating the arrival of all the staff for another busy day.

This is my favourite time to come to work. You know what they say about the early bird, after all.

The door to Lisbon's office is open and I can hear her computer humming from inside. I smile fondly as I imagine her walking out the door, half-asleep and completely forgetting about it.

I'm not quite prepared for the sight that meets my eyes. I always knew she worked herself too hard but this is jut ridiculous. Lisbon is slumped in her desk chair, fast asleep.

She looks so peaceful that I'm sorely tempted to leave her there, just so I can watch her a bit longer, but she'll be mortified if she doesn't have time to clean herself up before everyone arrives.

I creep quietly to her side and give her a gentle shake. Her eyelids flutter a little, she lets out a sleepy little sigh, but she doesn't wake. I shake her again, harder this time.

Abruptly, she jolts awake and sits bolt upright. Her hand automatically reaches for her gun and I'm very grateful that it's locked away in her desk drawer.

"Get your hands off me, freak! I'm a state agent!"

I can't help but burst into laughter. She just looks so cute with her hair all messy and her mascara all smudged at the side of her eyes.

Heaven help me, I am doomed. She even manages to look gorgeous when she's just woken up.

Or at least, she looks gorgeous to me.

"Jane? What are you doing in my apartment?" she asks, quizzically.

"I'm-not," I manage to choke out through my laughter. "Take a look around you, Lisbon."

Shielding her eyes against the sunlight, she surveys the room and her expression gradually transforms from confusion to horror.

"I fell asleep? At the office?"

"Evidently."

"But I can't have, I was only resting for a moment-"

"Your very fashion-forward 'just-rolled-out-of-bed' hair suggests otherwise."

"You've got to be kidding me," she says angrily, more to herself than me.

I glance at her watch. "It's 7:45. People are going to start arriving in a couple of hours. Aren't you lucky I got here early and woke you up?"

"Yeah, yeah the gift basket's on its way," she grumbles. She takes a deep breath. "OK, I just have time to run home, have a quick shower and change before everyone gets here. And _you,_" she snarls at me suddenly, "-are not to say a single word about this to anyone. _Anyone. _Or I swear on my life I will murder you on the spot and to hell with the consequences."

Another chuckle escapes from me before I can quash it. It's kind of hard to take death threats all that seriously when the person issuing them looks like an unkempt version of Morticia from "The Addams Family."

As solemnly as I can manage, I raise my hand, as if I'm taking the oath in a court trial. "Lisbon you have my word, nothing about this incident will pass these lips."

She visibly relaxes. "Thank you,"

"But how would you feel about a mass e-mail?"

"_Jane!_"

Angrily, she stands up too quickly and lets out a shriek of pain, clutching at her neck.

All jokes are instantly forgotten. That's a sound I never want to hear again.

"What's wrong?"

She winces as she gingerly rolls her head to one side, then the other.

"I think I slept on a weird angle last night."

"No kidding. I don't think desk chairs exactly provide the optimum in night-time back support."

"Can we give the comedy act a rest, please?" she requests, testily. "I'm in serious pain here."

"Do you have any painkillers?"

"No," she moans. "I used them all up and I haven't gotten around to buying some more. Do you have any?"

"Why would I? I don't get sick."

"Well with all the times you've been punched in the nose by people you've pissed off I'm sure it's been broken at least once?"

"Running total's at three. Doctor says once he's fixed it four times, the fifth procedure is free. If you came too, we could maybe get a two-for-one deal or something."

"Jane. Really not in the mood."

"OK, OK. I'm sorry. But I have another idea," I venture.

"What?" she asks, a little warily.

"Come here, turn around, and close your eyes."

It's a mark of the seriousness of the situation that she doesn't even argue. Instead she settles for a withering glare, and does as I ask.

"You're not going to hypnotize me, are you?" She sounds nervous.

"No. Just hold still."

Gently, I lay a hand on her neck.

She jerks away. "No way, you're not touching me with those hands. God only knows where they've been!"

"Lisbon, relax," I say soothingly. "I know what I'm doing. Trust me."

She inhales deeply, and then exhales. "I can't believe I'm saying this…but I trust you."

"OK, good. Now please calm down or I will be forced to hypnotize you."

"Jane…" she begins, warningly.

"Kidding, kidding. Now stop talking and let me work my magic."

"Just as long as I don't end up getting sawn in half," she mutters, just loud enough for me to hear her.

Once again, I carefully put a hand to her neck. She flinches, but doesn't pull away so I start to move it in slow circles, working out the kinks.

"It's not working,"

I chuckle. Of course it's not working yet, I've only been at it for about ten seconds.

"Patience. Good things take time."

She falls silent, for a time and I focus on my task, taking extra care not to press too hard or hurt her.

She lets out a long, contented sigh, followed by a soft moan of pleasure.

Now _that's _a sound I'd be happy to hear every day, for the rest of my life.

"You're good at this," she says, some minutes later. By this time, I have progressed to kneading the back of her neck and her shoulders. "Something you picked up on the carnival circuit?"

"I saw some people doing a demonstration at the mall once."

"And?"

"I paid attention."

"Right. Coupled with natural talent of course."

"Of course."

A few more minutes of silence, in which I realize my hands have strayed far away from the affected area, but she doesn't seem to mind, so I'm not about to rock the boat.

I relish every little sound she makes, even the tiniest little sigh. It's gratifying to know that for once; my presence is causing her pleasure, rather than pain, not to mention I get to find out things about her that I've always wanted to know. Her skin is even silkier then I imagined.

That thought makes me think of McKay and his pathetic attempts to get close to her. Loser.

I so win.

If it were up to me, I'd happily keep this going for another hour or so but the first people are going to be here soon and I'm not sure how much further I'm game to press my luck today.

Reluctantly, I cease massaging and slowly pull away.

It's a small consolation when she moans in protest, apparently as disappointed as I am that this magical moment has to end.

I step back, putting some physical distance between us, partly to keep myself from reaching for her again. Because if there ever is a next time, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to let go.

"Feel better?" I enquire, trying to set a neutral tone for the conversation.

"Much," she says shortly. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"Believe me, I won't."

The watch now says 8:10.

"You should go. If you hurry, you can be back here by 9:15."

"OK. See you soon."

She heads for the door.

"Lisbon?"

She swings back around.

"I'm not going to tell anyone. About any of it."

She smiles easily at me. "I know. I trust you."

"Though I may have to auction off the cell phone pictures."

A flash of fear in her eyes.

"Liar," she says uncertainly.

I grin at her.

"Well done. You're learning."

"The student becomes the teacher, huh?"

"Let's not push it."

We both laugh.

"See you, Patrick."

"Goodbye Teresa."

It's the first time we've ever called each other by our given names. But I know full well, it won't be happening again for a while. The second she walks back through the door, it'll be back to Jane and Lisbon, crime fighters, as opposed to Patrick and Teresa, regular people.

But I'll always have the memory of this morning, when I was just a man in love, trying to please the object of his affections. The simplest thing, which so many people take for granted, I'll always appreciate.

Because when it comes to Teresa Lisbon, it's most likely as good as it will ever get.

**Please review. Even a couple of lines will do.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Welcome to another chapter! **

**Disclaimer: It still isn't mine.**

**Rating and pairing remain the same.**

**Lisbon POV**

Another horn blares as I squeeze my car into a gap in the traffic that is much too small for it. The guy next to me, driving a blue Mazda is shaking his fist in my direction and yelling something.

Well he can just go to hell. I'm still wearing yesterday's clothes, my hair is a rat's nest and the remnants of my makeup are all smeared, making me look like a panda bear dosed up on sedatives.

As I cut into the right-hand lane, I catch a glimpse of myself in the rear view mirror and cringe. I don't know how I could possibly have embarrassed myself any more this morning.

I mean, who falls asleep at the office, for Christ's sake? I shudder to think about what might have happened if Jane hadn't found me; I'd be the laughing-stock of the CBI. I dodged a bullet, but it comes at a heavy price.

It's a hard blow to the self-esteem, making a fool of myself in front of the man I've been secretly longing for all these years. Yesterday, I really thought I was making some progress with him, but now?

The only positive thing I can think of right now is at least my neck doesn't hurt anymore. Jane, it turns out, is good with his hands. Very good. I noticed the way they wandered somewhat from where they were supposed to be, but I enjoyed the sensation of his touch so much, I let that slide. If he hadn't stopped when he did, things might have been in danger of getting a little heated between us.

I let out a small, humourless chuckle at this thought. Sure Teresa, I'm sure he found you totally irresistible. What man wouldn't be entranced by the ugly sister of the Wicked Witch Of The West?

In record time, I reach my apartment building and double-park outside it. I make sure my CBI parking permit is clearly visible as I turn off the engine and get out. Dishonest yes, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Just under an hour later, showered, changed and feeling more like myself, I re-enter the office. As I pass by the kitchenette, I see my team grouped around one of the tables. Van Pelt's sipping coffee, Cho's reading a book and Rigsby is tucking into a sandwich that looks like it consists of the contents of the entire fridge.

"Good morning," I greet them all.

Van Pelt beams at me. "Hey, boss."

Rigsby waves, taking a huge bite of the sandwich, while Cho just nods.

"Where's Jane?"

"Couch."

Ah, Cho. Always to the point.

"Once you're done here, see if you can get hold of Amanda Seine and see what she has to say about all this."

"Will do."

On the way to my office, I pass by the couch and sure enough, Jane is stretched out comfortably on it, dozing lightly, or appearing to. With him, I can never be sure. Oh well, at least if he stays there I can keep an eye on him.

On my desk, there's a cup of coffee waiting for me, along with a brown paper bag emblazoned with the logo of the little bakery around the corner. It only just hits me that I haven't had any breakfast this morning and I feel instant gratitude toward the mystery gift-giver.

I have a pretty good idea who it might be. Who else would know about my liking for double-shot lattes with hazelnut flavouring? It's an indulgence I allow myself very rarely, and never at work. And the same goes for cinnamon scrolls, still warm, straight from the oven. He must have timed it all perfectly. I can just see him sneaking it all in to my office and then dashing back to the couch, just before I arrived.

Jane can be so thoughtful when he wants to be; it's a shame he seems to prefer being a jackass. I could easily get used to being treated this way.

* * *

**Jane POV**

"Any word on Seine yet?"

Lisbon emerges from her office with a new energy and eager to get to work, as always. The food seems to have done her good, so it was worth the mile-long line at the bakery.

"She refuses to come in," Van Pelt reports.

"Well did you remind her that she is obligated by law to co-operate with our investigation?"

"She says she'll be happy to come see us tomorrow."

"Since when did we start allowing persons of interest to call the shots?" Lisbon grouches, to nobody in particular. "What the hell is she doing that's so important anyway?"

"Apparently she's on the planning committee for some big party they're having tonight."

"Less than a week after their friend died," remarks Lisbon. "Seems like they're really hurting."

"I wouldn't imagine that a hurricane would stop this party from happening, let alone something as trivial as Justine's death," I chime in, not bothering to open my eyes. "Anyway, she's just going to stonewall us like Mackenzie."

"And how do you know?" asks Cho, sharply.

"I'd put money on it that both of them have something to hide, so pulling them into an interrogation room probably isn't all that conducive to getting them to talk."

"So what do we do?" asks Van Pelt.

I sit up and beam at them all. "I have an idea."

Everyone exchanges concerned glances.

"What kind of idea?" Lisbon wants to know, trying not to sound as apprehensive as she is, but she's tapping her foot on the ground and she only does that when she's nervous or upset.

"Come now Lisbon, no need to scowl. We don't want worry lines marring your lovely face."

I can see Van Pelt roll her eyes at Rigsby, who smirks back at her.

"Being forced to put up with _you_ would make anyone age prematurely," Lisbon retorts.

"Really woman, just take a breath and calm down. I swear to you, it's not that bad."

"Not that bad? I'm sorry if I don't think a man who intentionally pissed off a mob boss, provoked an angry biker and smashed a priceless diamond with a _fire extinguisher_ has a particularly strong grasp on what is good and bad."

"So my methods are a little unconventional. We always get the murderer in the end don't we?"

"Unconventional? Is that what you call it?"

"Well, how would you describe it?"

"The words 'stupid' and 'childish' come to mind."

"Lisbon, must you put such a negative spin on everything? It's horribly depressing."

"Oh, you are so full of crap. Why don't you just-?"

Cho clears his throat.

Lisbon and I both look to him in surprise. To be honest, I'd almost forgotten that he and others were still here. When I'm bickering with Lisbon, it's like the rest of the world goes away and it's just the two of us in our own private little bubble.

"You had an idea?" Cho prompts me.

"I propose…we go undercover. Get into the party, gain their trust. In wealthy communities everybody knows everything. Someone might let something slip."

"And if they don't?"

"Well we'll have spent a few hours eating good food and drinking expensive champagne that someone else is paying for. What do we have to lose?"

Lisbon looks doubtful. "By 'we' you mean?"

"You and I of course."

Really who else would she think I meant? Dim lighting, soft music, free-flowing alcohol and hopefully another reappearance by that tight black dress…oh, the possibilities.

"No."

It seems like she couldn't get the word out fast enough.

"Why not? We're the only two that neither Mackenzie or Amanda have seen or spoken to."

I made damn sure of that. I've been formulating this idea since yesterday morning in the elevator and not just for the means of solving the case. Whenever an opportunity arises that I can get her alone, I can't help but jump at it.

I never was any good at sharing.

I can see she's looking for a reason to say no. It's kind of hurtful in a way. Is spending a few hours with me really that terrible? I personally can't think of a better way to spend an evening than having Lisbon all to myself.

While she's thinking it over I allow myself to indulge in one of my favourite fantasies, the one where we're driving somewhere on a cold winter's night and the car suddenly breaks down. We're forced to huddle together for warmth in the backseat and well…things take their natural course.

I'm just nudging her shirt aside so I can get at her collarbone when the real Lisbon's voice abruptly jars me out of dream world and back to reality.

"You're too well-known. People are bound to recognise you."

Please. She played the 'minor celebrity' card? Oh darling, you're going to have to do better than that.

"Meh. I haven't been on the social scene in years; you know that. And anyway they'll all be so hammered they won't recognise their own partners, let alone me. Come on, it'll be fun!"

"It could work, boss. We might stumble on something we can use."

Good old reliable Rigsby. I knew he'd back me up.

"As far as 'Jane schemes' go, this is pretty tame," says Cho, thoughtfully. "You won't have to do anything reckless, as long as you don't draw any attention to yourselves, everything will be fine. I think we should do it."

"Well since you approve Cho, I guess everything's all set," comes Lisbon's terse reply.

But I can tell she's coming around to the idea, even if she doesn't want to say so.

"Even if we get nothing out of it, we've still got Amanda coming in the morning," I point out. "At best, we get a new suspect or lead and at worst, we waste a bit of time. Either way, we're no worse off."

She exhales. "How are we even going to get in? We won't have an invitation."

"I'll get us in. It'll be a piece of cake."

"Sure you will."

"Bet you ten bucks we're in the door within two minutes."

"Don't be such a child," she chastises me. "Fine, since we don't have any better ideas, we'll do it. But when I say it's over, _it's over._ Is that clear?"

"You're the boss."

"And only if it's OK by Sausalito P.D. It's their case too."

"So go call them. I'm sure Detective McKay wouldn't dream of refusing you anything."

She glares at me.

"You try and behave yourself for half an hour while I go make that call. Can you handle that?"

I shrug. "I can try."

But I make no promises.

* * *

**Lisbon POV **

I swipe the last coat of mascara onto my lashes and put the bottle down. I've never really liked undercover work, and I really, really don't feel like crashing some ritzy party on the off chance that we might learn something.

Unluckily, McKay thought the whole undercover thing was a brilliant idea and so now I have no excuse not to do it.

I experimentally take a step in the sky-high heels Van Pelt insisted I wear with my dress. Since the ground doesn't immediately come rushing up to meet me I feel confident enough to walk slowly over and give myself a cursory glance in the ladies' room mirror. I guess I look pretty good but I'm uncomfortable, and I'd give anything to just be in my work wear right now. I can barely breathe in this stupid dress.

Just relax Teresa; it's all part of the job. As long as I keep it professional everything will be fine. It's just a few hours with Jane. What could possibly go wrong?

Oh, help. I am doomed.

Cautiously I emerge from the bathroom. Van Pelt meets me just outside the door.

"Lisbon, you look amazing," she says reassuringly. "Wait until J- I mean the others- see you. They're going to flip." I'll pretend I didn't notice that little slip of the tongue there, for both our sake's.

I wave a dismissing hand at the subject.

"What, they haven't seen a dress before?" I'm trying to play it cool but in truth, I am kind of curious to see what they think, and there's one opinion I'm particularly interested in.

Let's just say that if Jane wants to screw around with me, I'm going to have some fun with him too.

Heads turn as I pass through the corridors and I determinedly ignore them, making a beeline for Serious Crimes.

Rigsby lets out a long, low whistle and the cookie he's holding plummets to the floor. It's a strange experience, being ogled by one of my junior agent, and not one I care to repeat anytime soon. "Boss…wow," he manages to splutter out eventually, before casting a guilty look over at Van Pelt. She just laughs.

"Nice dress." From Cho that is extravagant praise and I notice with amusement that he keeps glancing at me over the top of his book.

A sharp intake of breath alerts to me to Jane's arrival and I look over to see him looking just as luscious as ever in his tuxedo, enough to make a male supermodel hang his head in shame. His eyes are fixed on me and I feel like I'm being X-rayed as he scans my body up and down.

"So," I enquire nonchalantly. "Do I pass?"

* * *

**Jane POV**

It's not the black dress. It's even better.

It's red.

And it looks like it was designed especially with Lisbon in mind, it hugs every curve and the deep colour contrasts with her green eyes, making them seem brighter in comparison.

She truly is a goddess.

All of a sudden I'm tempted to skip the whole thing and steal her away to somewhere private where I'll never have to share her with another living soul again.

She's waiting for an answer I realize, as everyone waits expectantly to hear what I'll say.

What do they think I'm going to do, fall to my knees and pledge my undying love to her or something? I'm here to tell you, if (when?) that ever happens, it certainly won't be in the bullpen of the CBI. That would just be tacky.

Still, I have to say _something_.

"You look nice."

Nice? _Nice? _She looks more beautiful than I've ever seen her and all I have to say on the subject is _nice?_

Her face falls into an unmistakeable expression of disappointment but being Lisbon, she quickly covers it up with a half-hearted smile.

"Thank you. You scrub up pretty well yourself."

"Yes well, every society woman needs a devilishly handsome escort, and the only person in this room who fits that description would be well, me."

Cho and Rigsby both snort and Van Pelt is overcome by a fit of the silent giggles.

"Well since Freddie the janitor isn't available, I guess you'll have to do." She frowns.

"Oh come on now, enough grumpiness. Anyone would think I was taking you to your own funeral instead of a party most women would kill to get into."

"Then take one of them and leave me out of it."

"And let all that time you spent getting ready go to waste? Never."

I offer her my arm. "We should get going, milady. We have a party to crash."

Looking as if she'd rather be anywhere else, she links her arm through mine and I wonder if she knows how hard my heart is pounding.

"Lead the way."

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

Well that didn't go quite as I was planning. All that effort and all I get is 'nice?'

I should've stuck with the black one. I mentally curse Van Pelt for talking me into the red.

This isn't going to work. These people are going to take one look at me and throw me out of the building. Jane might be able to sweet-talk them into letting him stay but as for me, I might as well give up now.

"Nervous, my dear?"

"Eyes on the road, Jane."

The only reason I'm allowing him to drive is because my feet won't sit on the pedals right in these ridiculous shoes and considering that it took five minutes to put the damn things on, I'm not taking them off.

"You needn't be anxious."

"I'm not!"

"Then why can't you sit still?"

"This dress is way too tight."

"You need any help getting out of it, just say the word. I'd be happy to oblige."

I'd really like to hit him for that, but I'm afraid he'll swerve off the road and we'll both be killed, so I settle for an icy glare instead and turn to look out the window.

For once, he decides not to press me and silence reigns save for the inane chatter of radio presenters running a phone poll on "how would you spend your last ten dollars?"

A guy from Sierra Vista with a nasally voice is explaining that he would spend his last ten dollars on a lottery ticket. I picture a thin, weedy man with glasses and the beginnings of a bald spot and smirk to myself. He's going into detail about the numbers he'll pick when Jane abruptly switches to another station.

The smooth sounds of a saxophone ooze from the speakers as he settles on the jazz station he likes. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music and murmurs the lyrics to the song.

In other circumstances, this situation could almost be considered romantic. Just the two of us, in a darkened car with nothing but open road ahead of us, and the swirling jazz on the radio; it's like something out of a trashy paperback novel.

"How much further?" I ask.

He smirks. "I knew you'd crack eventually. No offence Lisbon, but you really suck at the silent treatment."

"Well maybe next time I'll just let my gun do the talking instead. Then we'll see who's going to be silent."

"Was that a threat?"

"No, it was a promise."

"Meow. Very catty. You're going to fit right in with all those country-club girls."

"Thanks so much for _that _compliment. Back to my original question-"

"We're nearly there. Oh, and is that a little tear I see in your dress?"

"What? Where?"

Frantically, I examine the dress for imperfections and he chuckles.

"Made you look."

"Oh _real _mature Jane."

I'm nervous enough as it is and he just has to go and make it worse.

Two minutes later, we've surrendered the car to the valet outside the biggest house I've ever seen. I can hear an orchestra playing inside, mingled with laughter and talk from the guests.

Jane is surveying the security staff standing by the door.

"The tall guy on the end looks like an easy mark. You ready?"

"Not even slightly."

He takes my hand and squeezes it.

"Think about Justine. Her killer could be in there. We owe it to her to see what we can find out."

"I know. Thanks."

"Anytime. And for the record, you look absolutely stunning."

I glance at him in surprise, flushing with pleasure. He grins impishly.

"What? I couldn't very well say that in front of the others. They might have gotten the wrong idea."

"What kind of idea?"

"That our relationship is more than purely professional."

"Don't be stupid," I say, sounding more certain than I feel. "Why would they think that?"

No longer smiling, he holds my gaze as he brings my hand up to his lips and kisses it.

There's a wicked gleam in his eye as I let out a little gasp of surprise. He lets my hand go.

"No reason."

* * *

**I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter but since it's been a while since I updated, I thought I'd post it anyway. **

**Stay tuned for Jane and Lisbon's undercover experience at the party. I have a feeling it's going to be fun AND fluffy.**

**Thanks heaps to all my wonderful reviewers. I send Jisbon/ Jello/ whatever you want to call it goodness to you all! **


	7. Chapter 7

**This one took a while to be posted I know. But in my own defence it is a bit longer than the other chapters so far, so I hope I'm forgiven.**

**Thank you; thank you for all the reviews! Over 60! That's more than I've ever had. You guys are wonderful.**

**It jumps back and forth in POVs a lot but each change is marked in bold. **

**I worked hard on this one, and I really hope you enjoy it.**

**Here we have it…the party!**

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

Seriously, why does he do these things to me?

* * *

**Jane POV**

I knew this undercover thing was a good idea. I've managed to get a kiss in already, and we haven't even started yet.

Sure it was only a kiss on the hand, but one must celebrate the small victories, right?

But at the same time, I feel the slightest bit disappointed.

I know what I'd really like to be kissing, and it sure as hell isn't her hand.

There's a silence for a few beats.

"Come on," she says, presently. "Let's get this over with."

"OK," I smile at her encouragingly, and I'm pleased to see her smile back. "Just follow my lead."

We stroll casually over to the security guard I picked out earlier. He's a lot bigger up close.

"Too bad we don't have your taser gun this time," I mutter to Lisbon. She laughs.

"Evening folks." He doesn't smile. "Your invitation?"

"I'm afraid we don't have it. But we're on the list."

"Yeah, like I haven't heard that one before. Step aside please."

"No seriously, we're on the list."

"Fine. Your name?"

"Mark Ackerman," I say confidently.

I feel Lisbon tense up beside me, but she doesn't say anything.

"Ackerman, Ackerman," The guard runs his finger down the list he's holding and places a check next to my new pseudonym.

"And you, miss?"

Lisbon opens her mouth, but I beat her to it.

"My girlfriend, Justine Lyons."

She looks around at me in outrage. In hindsight, it might have been wise to clue her in on this plan as she looks like she might lose control at any moment and blow our cover.

Oh, who am I kidding? She'd never have allowed it.

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

Oh no. No, no. He did not just do that. He is not passing me off as the murder victim. Surely I must have misheard, even Jane wouldn't dare sink that low.

"It's spelt L-Y-O-N-S," he's saying helpfully to the guard, determinedly avoiding my gaze.

Conning people is one thing, it's just a means to an end, but I can't be party to this blatant disrespect for a young girl who has only just passed away. The hell with Jane and his stupid plan.

"Actually, my name isn't-"

Jane quickly snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me to his side.

"It's all right sweetheart. I know you're getting cold, but we'll be inside soon."

The guard is still consulting his list, so I try to wrench myself away from him. His grip is surprisingly strong.

"Baby, relax," Jane coos, pressing a firm kiss to my temple. "We're fine. Everything's fine."

Having him this close is starting to have its usual effect on me and I can feel my resolve beginning to weaken slightly.

But I challenge any woman to be able to keep her head with Patrick Jane wrapped around her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Take it from me; it's an impossible task.

"OK Miss Lyons, you're good to go. Head on through."

Jane thanks him and gently tugs at my hand so I'll follow him through the ornate doors into the house.

* * *

**Jane POV**

I think that went rather well. We managed to get inside without having to resort to hypnosis, which is always a good thing.

I carefully glance over at Lisbon. At the moment, she's too shell-shocked to react to what I've done, but if I know Lisbon, she'll be recovering herself very soon. It takes a lot to blindside her and it never lasts long.

Ah, here we go. The somewhat dazed look in her eyes is gradually being replaced by the usual steely glint she always gets when she's about to rake me over the coals.

And in three, two, one…

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Fortunately, she chooses to hiss at me like an angry cobra, rather than shout. Once she starts on a rampage, she can go on for hours and we really don't have time for that right now.

"You gave me the dead girl's name?" she asks incredulously.

"So?" I counter, defensively. "I knew her name would've been on the guest list and I just figured that nobody would have bothered to take it off. Nobody will know; it's not like she's going to rise from the grave and start sampling the hors d oeuvres or anything."

"That's not funny."

"Everything can be funny. It's all in the interpretation."

"Couldn't you have found some other way to get us in?"

"Lisbon, she's dead. I really don't think she's going to mind that much."

"Well, I do."

Oh no. She actually sounds upset. An uncomfortable feeling of guilt washes over me as I realize that once again, without meaning to, I have managed to cause her pain.

"Lisbon, I'm sorry."

When in doubt, start apologizing.

"No you're not." There's a harsh tinge to her voice that wasn't there before.

"I don't regret what I said," I clarify. "But I am truly sorry that it upset you."

Silence.

For the second time tonight, I take her hand in mine and hold it tight.

"It has never been my intention to hurt you in any way. Can you believe that?"

It feels like an eternity, but she finally nods.

I glance at the clock on the wall. It's 9:30. "I think it'll be easier if we split up. If I find out anything interesting, I'll come and find you."

"Right." I can see her mentally preparing herself for the task at hand. I know she hates big glitzy events like these and I can tell she always feels like she doesn't belong.

I want to say something encouraging, but decide against it. She'll just think I'm patronizing her.

She extracts her hand from mine and fixes me with a stern look.

"Try to stay out of trouble, won't you?"

"I'll be an angel. Promise."

"Good. I'd hate to make you look bad by having to come save your neck…again."

I can't help but scoff.

"And how pray tell, would you do that my dear? Threaten to kick them in the ass with your stiletto heel?"

"I'll just ask them very, very nicely Jane."

"Without your badge and gun, your opinion probably won't carry that much weight."

That wonderfully sexy smirk crosses her face.

"Who says I don't have them?"

I cast a dubious eye over her petite form, clad in the skin-tight red dress. There's no way she could conceal a badge under there, let alone a gun.

"Liar," I accuse, confidently.

Her smile doesn't falter. "Am I?"

Suddenly I'm not so sure. I can read Lisbon better than anyone and right now all her body language indicates she's telling the truth.

I suppose I shouldn't be all that surprised that she managed to smuggle her gun in here. Lisbon is the type of cop who feels almost naked without a weapon.

But where in the hell has she put it?

That's a very interesting thought. Not to mention, kind of a turn-on.

Don't think about it. Don't think about it. She'll know, and she'll hold it over me until the end of time.

Oh crap. She's looking at me with that knowing look in her eye, as if she can read my thoughts.

I have to say, I'm not all that comfortable with this, now the shoe's on the other foot. I prefer it when she leaves the mind games to me.

"I'm going in," she purrs. "See you later."

She turns around and saunters towards the brightly lit room where the party is. She slips through the door and is swallowed up by the crowd.

I take a long, deep breath.

One way or another, that woman is going to be the death of me.

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

There's something very gratifying about toying with Patrick Jane and winning. I just couldn't resist winding him up a little.

He'll be so disappointed when I tell him it's in my ankle holster. Ha.

* * *

**Jane POV**

One step into the room, and I'm reminded of how much I hated schmoozing while I was working the 'psychic' scam. Everywhere I turn, there's another little cluster of vapid, self-impressed people twittering away to one another.

To my left, some guy with sideburns is bragging about the 'killing' he made on the stock market today. To my right, a woman in a black dress that's showing way too much cleavage is gossiping to her friends about how the lady standing across from them is cheating on her husband with the gardener.

If I had to bet, I'd the say the one in black is probably sleeping with him herself.

A waitress passes by holding a tray laden with champagne flutes. I snatch one off it and take a sip as I amble casually towards the bar.

At the end of the bar, there's a small group of men, each nursing a glass of what appears to be scotch and conversing in low voices. I claim a barstool just close enough that I can overhear what they're saying.

"Please. Mackenzie Watson is a pushover. All I'll have to do is buy her a drink and she'll be mine for the night."

The familiar name piques my interest.

"Think you're pretty good, don't you?" I remark loudly and the four of them turn around to face me.

"You got a problem?" asks the man who was talking about Mackenzie.

"You're all talk. I'd bet everything I own that you couldn't get a single woman in this room to even speak to you."

The other three all snort into their scotch and he glares at them.

"I'd watch my mouth if I were you, pretty boy," he snarls.

"Why? What are you going to do about it?"

"Who the hell are you, anyway?" he demands to know.

"I'm Patrick."

"Mitch. And that's Eric, Leon and Darren." Each of the others raises their glass as he says their names.

"Nice to meet you all. As I was saying, if you can convince any woman in here to give you the time of day, I'd be extremely surprised."

Mitch draws himself up to his full (and considerable) height. This is usually about the time in interrogations when I deftly nip behind Rigsby and Cho, so I can continue prodding without any risk of harm to myself, but tonight I am riding solo.

"Is that a challenge, Patrick?"

"Obviously you're taking it as one."

"Damn right I am. Give me ten minutes and I'll be scoring with any of these ladies."

"Tell you what, let's make a little game out of it. Both of us, one woman, five minutes each. First one to get her to give him her number wins."

Mitch grins broadly and rubs his hands together eagerly. "Feels like I'm in high school again! You're on."

"Excellent. OK, I win and you give me the dirt on everybody here. I'm new to the area and I need to know what I'm letting myself in for."

"Fine. I win, and drinks are on you for the rest of the night."

"Done."

We shake on it as solemnly as if we've just signed an international peace declaration.

I turn to Eric, Leon and Darren.

"Gentlemen, in the interest of fairness, I think you should select the target."

Beaming, the three of them scan the crowd for a potential mark. I calmly finish off my champagne. This is going to be easy. I'll flash a smile, turn on the charm and have the poor woman under my spell in about thirty seconds flat. Then maybe I can find out something pertinent to the case.

"Alright we've got her," Eric announces. "The little brunette at the table over there, in the smokin' red dress." Discreetly, he gestures towards her.

My gaze follows the direction of his hand.

I think I feel my heart stop when I see her.

Oh Jesus no. This can't be happening. Of all the women in this room they chose…Lisbon.

"Nice choice, guys" Mitch praises them. "She is tasty."

A wave of jealousy, far stronger than I ever experienced with McKay washes over me as he makes a show of checking her out. If he weren't so freakishly large, I would probably punch him right now. Just the thought of him running his hands all over her is enough to send me halfway to insanity.

I hope she really does have that gun stashed away somewhere. That might stop him his tracks.

I don't trust myself to speak so I just nod my assent to the plan. I can't back out now. It'll just make them suspicious.

Mitch gulps down the last of his scotch. "I'll go first."

Assuredly, he starts to make his way across the crowded dance floor, towards her. Everything about him, his facial expression, his gait, paints the picture of the ruthless predator going in for the kill.

I know Lisbon, and she can't stand smug, stuck-up guys like him, but with every step he takes in her direction, I have to wrestle down the urge to run over there and whisk her away somewhere far away from him, and anyone else who might think of trying it on with her.

She came to this event with me, and by extension that makes her mine.

I can just see the look on her face if I ever was stupid enough to say that out loud.

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

I'm sitting alone at a table counting down the minutes until this nightmare is over. Since I'm officially on duty I can't drink and so far I've had no luck finding out anything about the case. As I suspected, this has all been one big waste of time.

There's a man coming towards me with a look in his eyes that I know well. It's the same look that Jane gets when he's on a mission.

"Hey gorgeous. This seat taken?"

His oily voice puts me off right away as well as the insincere endearment. I don't allow anyone, not even boyfriends, to give me pet names, and that goes double for complete strangers.

There is but one glaring exception to this rule. For some reason, whenever Jane call me things like 'darling' or 'baby,' it inspires nothing more than a little frisson of pleasure. But as for this guy, lacking Jane's easy charm and quite frankly, not nearly as nice to look at, I feel a mixture of revulsion and anger. Who does he think he is? He doesn't even know me.

I'm trying to think of a way to turn him down politely, when he unceremoniously drops into the seat beside me.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

With effort, I twist the corners of my mouth up into an almost smile.

"No thanks. I'm good." Short, monosyllabic words. Hopefully that'll get the point across.

The man seems unperturbed. He grins flirtatiously at me. "A pretty little thing such as yourself shouldn't be sitting alone, you know."

Pretty little thing? Ugh. This guy has no idea.

"I'm sorry. You are?"

A little more aggression colours my tone than I intended but I doubt he's even noticed.

"I'll be whoever you want me to be, sweet thing. But you can call me Mitch." He reaches across the table for my hand, but with lightning speed I snatch it away and rest it on my lap.

"Mitch. Right."

"And what's your name?"

"Teresa," I wasn't about to be Justine.

"Beautiful. It suits you." He reaches for me again, this time, grabbing for my arm. There is no hesitance to his touch, no concern as to how I might react. This is a man that takes what he wants, when he wants it and refuses to be denied. Well, that ends now.

Forcefully, I push his hand away, and he seems a little surprised. He glares at me like a master would look at a misbehaving dog while he scolded it for disobedience.

I swear if that hand wanders any more, I'll impale it on the steak knife that's resting temptingly close to me.

I look over the top of his head, searching for Jane. Now would be a really good time for a disaster.

* * *

**Jane POV**

It's been two minutes since he went over there and I've been watching them both like a hawk. I can tell he's approaching her completely the wrong way. She keeps jerking away from him whenever he tries to touch her. But he's not getting the hint.

Fool. Of course he wouldn't understand that he can't just force her into acquiescence like the brainless bimbos he usually dates. She's a smart, confident, independent woman and she won't be dragged into something she doesn't want to do. It's one of the things I love most about her.

Two minutes and thirty seconds. If the clock were moving any slower it'd be going backwards and it's like a punch in the stomach every time he lays a hand on her, even though she's certainly not reciprocating.

Three minutes. I can see his patience is beginning to wear thin. His jaw is set in frustration and he keeps clenching and unclenching his fists under the table.

Lisbon hasn't given one inch, but she keeps looking around the room for something, and I can tell she's feeling a little anxious.

Four minutes and forty-five seconds. I proceed slowly across the dance floor to where they're sitting and at five minutes precisely, I tap her on the shoulder.

"May I cut in?"

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

I don't think I've ever been more pleased to see my consultant then right now. He leaves his hand on my shoulder briefly, and gently squeezes it. It's an unspoken gesture of support and the tender caress sets my heart racing. His touch is gentle, and unassuming and couldn't be more different to Mitch's.

"Would you like to dance?" he asks.

I nod vigorously, glad for the excuse to abandon Mitch who has been watching our interaction with dissatisfaction. Jane takes my hand in his and leads me out into the middle of the floor.

"Are you OK?" he enquires quietly, barely audible over the music.

"Fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you just spent the last five minutes being hit on by King Kong's cousin."

We both smirk.

"What, were you timing it or something?"

I'm expecting an automatic denial, but he says nothing. Weird.

The music changes from an up-tempo song to a slow, dreamy waltz. As fluidly as if we're performing a choreographed routine, Jane draws me in closer. I lay my head on his shoulder and we drift through the song, and the one that follows it.

It suddenly strikes me that we must look very intimate for a couple that have only just met, but I'm so contented I can't bring myself to care just now. It's been a long time since anyone has ever just held me like this. I had no idea how much I missed it.

A dark haired, heavyset man passes by us on his way to the bathroom.

"How's it going?" he asks of Jane.

"I think I'm winning," he responds, grinning at the guy. "Oh Teresa, this is Leon, a new friend of mine."

"Ma'am," he greets me, smiling. He looks again to Jane. "Keep it up, Patrick."

"Will do."

Leon claps Jane on the shoulder and continues on.

I'm almost dying of curiosity.

"Winning?" I ask. "Winning what?"

"Oh, I made a bet with that guy Mitch, that I could seduce you before he could." He says it with the air of someone observing that the sky is blue or that one plus one equals two.

"You did _what?_"

The warm, fuzzy feelings are replaced by a white-hot anger. I don't care if it'll blow our cover. I'm going to rip his head off with my bare hands. How dare he treat me as if I'm collateral on a poker game!

It doesn't take him long to sense my change in mood and he hastily tries to smooth things over.

"Don't worry, it's all part of the plan."

"The plan? You set that jerk on me and thought it'd be OK if you told me it was all part of the plan?"

"Well it is. All you have do is make it look like you're giving me your phone number and I win."

"And what's the grand prize?"

"Inside information on what makes these people tick. It'll help us with our investigation."

"I don't care if they promised you a written confession of guilt, DNA evidence and ten priests as independent witnesses. I'm your supervising agent, not a bargaining chip!"

People's heads are starting to turn, as I'm not bothering to keep my voice low.

"Lisbon tonight you are neither of those things. Tonight you are the reason every other man here is thinking about murdering me."

"I'd put money on it that someone seriously considers murdering you wherever you go, you're that annoying. I'm an innocent bystander."

"They're all thinking 'how did that lucky bastard land himself the most beautiful woman in the room?'"

I give him a hard shot to the shoulder. He drops my hand and rubs the spot where I hit him.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Don't even try to charm your way out of this one, jackass. I am going to cause you pain in places you didn't even know you had." The last part comes out as a low growl.

* * *

**Jane POV**

Oh, damn. She's really pissed. I wouldn't put it past her to thoroughly kick my ass right here on the dancefloor. Honestly, it's not like I offered her up as a mail-order bride or something.

I consider running this line of reasoning by her, but in the interest of preserving my own life, I think I'll refrain.

I think a little damage control is required. She's glaring at me like a tigress about to pounce and not the good kind of pouncing either, but the kind that leaves the antelope as nothing more than a bloody carcass on the jungle floor.

And I don't want to get blood on this tux. It was expensive.

"Lisbon, you have every right to be angry," I begin in my most calming, rational voice. "But do you think you could hold your rage in until we can adjourn to a slightly more private area? People are staring."

And indeed they are. The couples nearest to us have stopped dancing completely and are following the conversation with enthusiasm. Others are shuffling from foot to foot to try and make it look like they're not hanging on to every word. Across the room, I see Mitch, fresh glass of scotch in hand, looking like he's having the time of his life.

When she fully appreciates the scene that we're causing, Lisbon seems to come to herself. She nods briskly and I quickly lead her away to a small cloakroom I spotted as we came in.

She turns to me, hands firmly planted on hips. For such a small woman she sure knows how to exude power. I wonder if that trait carries over into _all_ aspects of her life…

Whoa, whoa, whoa. So not the time to be going down that path!

"You have thirty seconds to explain yourself, or I start removing appendages from your body. And I won't be starting with your fingers."

She's eyeing me with the same icy glare she bestows on people in the interrogation room. And that's usually about the time they decide to come clean.

I don't know how she can be both terrifying and sexy as hell at the same time, but somehow she manages it.

"Look, it wasn't supposed to turn out this way. The idea was to pick some random woman and see who was the first to get her phone number. That's it, I swear."

"And the random woman just happened to be me, right?" She sounds doubtful.

"Right. I never dreamed that you'd be the one they picked out and by the time they did, it was too late to back out."

"Do you often go around treating women like targets?"

"No, but Mitch obviously does. The whole point of the stupid bet was to take him down a peg. Face it, the man's a pig."

She says nothing, but the deep frown line in her forehead seems to relax just a little. I'll take that as an agreement.

"But he's useful. He's the kind of guy who sees and knows everything. If there's anything more we can find out about our murder, he's the one to ask."

She breathes in. Out.

"And you're certain about this?"

"Positive."

"I just know I'm going to regret this," she murmurs to herself. "OK. What do we have to do?"

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

I'm still not happy about this, and Jane I will be having stern words when we get back to the CBI but for now all I can do is go with the flow. Oh, what I wouldn't give to be at home with a nice cabernet and a movie.

Jane pulls out his cell phone. "We've been in here about five minutes. That's long enough."

"To do what?" I'm dreading the answer.

"Why, to ravage each other in a fit of passion," he says, putting his phone back into his pocket. "Theoretically of course."

"And why in God's name would we be doing that?"

Any other day, the thought would be extremely tempting, but I'm still too mad at him to fantasize about that.

"Well we need some excuse for running off like that, and if we want to fool Mitch we're going to have to at least _pretend_ we like each other."

"I'm not that good an actor. In fact I think even an Oscar winner would struggle with that role." I take spiteful pleasure in the way he slightly recoils.

"Ouch. Not nice."

"You deserve it."

"Maybe so, but it doesn't numb the pain."

He slowly closes in on me so I'm pressed up against the coats. "I still have my gun, you know," I remind him.

"Don't fret. We just have to set the scene a little."

"That we've been making out in a closet?"

"It won't take long."

He reaches out with both hands and runs them through my hair, tousling it about so there are flyaways everywhere and the parting is slightly off centre. He undoes his bowtie and lets it hang loose around his neck, and unbuttons the top of his shirt and fiddles with his collar until it's sitting all crooked.

Very slowly, his hand approaches my face and he gently runs his thumb across my lips until it's stained with my lipstick that he smears onto his collar.

"Perfect. Now when we get out there, head straight for the ladies, as if you're embarrassed by what's happened and need to freshen up."

"No arguments here."

"When you come out we'll have a little chat to our friend, Mitch."

I nod. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can go home.

"Lisbon, one last thing."

There's a wild kind of look in his eyes as he grabs me by the hand and pulls me towards him. I don't have time to react as our lips meet for the first time. It starts innocently enough, a mere peck on the lips, but my body responds without me meaning it to. Before long, we are leaning up against the cloakroom wall, entangled in a passionate embrace.

My brain is screaming at me to push him away but it seems my body refuses to obey. This is wrong, so very wrong but I just can't make it end. Perhaps because when it ends I'll have to think about what I'm doing, instead of living in this blissful oblivion with nothing but his lips and mine and all the rules and the complications so far away.

"Jane…" I somehow manage to mumble and he tears his lips from mine.

"When Mitch was with you, it was killing me the whole time. I shouldn't have put you through that. I'm so sorry."

He begins kissing his way down my neck, and it is pleasure like I have never known before. I bite my lip to keep the moans from escaping and desperately attempt to clear my head.

This can't go on. Every shred of self-control is disappearing. As much as I don't want to, I have to stop.

I give him a gentle push and he instantly obeys the pressure. Our eyes open as the enormity of what has just happened hangs over us like a dense cloud. There is no sound but for our frantic breathing.

Something has snapped inside of Jane as he sinks to the floor, head in his hands. I remain standing, leaning against the wall for support.

"I'm sorry." His voice sounds hollow, like a ghost.

"It's OK."

He looks up to me, pleadingly. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's OK."

That's about as much conversation as I can manage.

* * *

**Jane POV**

One second. A lapse in control for one second, and I've gone and done something I can't take back. I've imagined what kissing her would be like, but to actually experience it is nothing short of mind-blowing. Part of me is euphoric and the others are screaming of betrayal and guilt. Images of my wife and images of Lisbon flash through my mind and meld into one.

I have to get my head together. We still have a job to do after all, even though my whole sense of self is crumbling around me.

"We should get out there."

She nods.

"I'm sorry about that. Just for authenticity, you know."

"Authenticity. Of course."

We both know that we're teetering over the threshold of a new stage in our relationship, but neither of us are ready to take the leap. The wheels have been set in motion, but we will hold them back as long as we can, even if it kills us. So we will grasp at any excuse that what just happened means nothing and that nothing has changed.

But my mind, which was once so black and white, is now tinged with grey. But I will not acknowledge it. I can't. Neither of us can.

I hold the door open and she follows me out into the bright lights and music, where we might be able to hide away from what we have done.

* * *

**Got a bit angsty at the end didn't it? I know it's supposed to be a fluffy fic, but I thought this chapter called for a bit of deeper reflection.**

**Next time, we learn more about the case and the repercussions of the kiss will be felt.**


	8. Chapter 8

**First off, I would like to apologise for the extremely long time it took me to update this story. I have been crippled with a particularly nasty case of writer's block and I have only just recovered. I'm not giving up on this story and there's at least a few chapters to go yet.**

**I'd also like to thank everyone who reviewed or messaged to tell me that they like the story and want me to continue. You guys are the best.**

**I've also decided that though this is a Jisbon story the rest of the team should be included more and so this chapter will feature a piece from the POV of everyone's favourite emotional wreck, the Cho. For there is no business like Cho business.**

**Well, enough chatter from me and on with the show!!!**

**Lisbon POV**

The light hits my eyes in a stark contrast to the gloominess of the cloakroom. Even though it's so bright I can barely see I walk quickly away from him, eager to put as much distance between us as possible.

Just get to the bathroom, Teresa, and then everything will be fine.

Once inside, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I don't know how much of my dishevelled appearance is due to Jane's alleged 'set design' and how much is to due to, well… The Event.

Teasing him and taunting was just a bit of fun up until now, but suddenly I'm not sure this is a game anymore. It's different when emotions get involved.

I smooth down my hair, reapply my lipstick and straighten my dress, all the while trying to think about anything but that kiss. That damn kiss, that threatens to destroy everything as we know it.

I have to put aside the fact that it was unquestionably the best kiss of my life. I have to forget how safe and secure I felt in his arms. None of it matters now.

It was a one-off. Nothing more. We'll never speak of it again to anybody, especially not each other.

For all intents and purposes, that kiss never happened.

I feel myself begin to grow calmer as I force the memory out, into the place in my mind where I keep thoughts of my father and bringing up my brothers. In essence, painful experiences that I never want to revisit.

It's probably not healthy, burying things the way I do, but it's the only thing I know how to do when the world throws something at me I can't handle.

Push it away.

The truth of the matter is I do have feelings for him, and though I can't be certain, I'm reasonably confident he has feelings for me too. But that's as far as it can go.

I've worked too hard at my career to have it all come undone now. My job is who I am, and I can't risk losing it, no matter what the cost.

Now, if only I could make myself believe that.

* * *

**Jane POV**

She hurries off to the bathroom, weaving in and out of the crowd and I'm glad for the space, until I can get my head together.

As soon as she is out of sight, Mitch sidles up to me, smirking.

"You've been busy." He points to the lipstick stain on my collar.

"She's definitely something."

"Looks like she's quite the little minx. I think you need this."

He hands me another flute of champagne. I take it eagerly from him and belt back two-thirds of it without hesitation. If I drink enough of this stuff, maybe I can forget what happened between Lisbon and me.

"Whoa. Take it easy there, Patrick," he says. "Leave some for all the other poor bastards who didn't manage to score themselves a tasty little slice, like you."

I really hate to hear him talk about Lisbon that way. She's not a 'slice.' He doesn't even know her

"I'm a lucky man," I say, unenthusiastically.

"You sure are. I guess you win."

Win? Oh right, our little bet. It seems so insignificant now, indeed I'd almost forgotten about it. My mind is still back in that cloakroom.

If she hadn't stopped it, I think we'd still be in there now. I would've happily spent the rest of the evening doing nothing but kissing her. Hell, I could happily spend the rest of my _life _doing nothing but kissing her, if she'd let me.

But I know better then anyone that she won't let that that happen. There's too much at stake. There's our work to think about. I know her career means the world to her and she doesn't want anything to jeopardize it.

But I can't help wondering if she felt the way I felt when we kissed, like suddenly all was right in the world.

Oh well, that's not important. It was all just a means to an end. Once we get what we need out of Mitch, we'll go home and everything will be as it was before.

We'll come to work every day and bicker and fight and flirt and laugh and I'll make her blush, and she'll try and one-up me, and we'll each go our separate ways at the end of the day, just as we've always done.

It's a good setup we've got going here, and I'm not going to let pesky things like feelings get in the way of it. If it's a choice between having her as my friend or not at all, I know what I have to do.

But for now, I have to get what we came for. I force a smile at Mitch.

"I win. So are you going to hold up your end?"

"I'm a man of my word, Patrick. Let me buy you a drink and then you can tell me what you want to know."

We go and seat ourselves at the bar and as he tries to get the bartender's attention, I find myself scanning the room for Lisbon.

Ah, here she comes now. She emerges from the bathroom looking calm and serene, a far cry from the rattled state she was in when she left me.

She glides past us self-assuredly, with her hair and makeup immaculate once again. I feel the familiar ache tugging at my heart. It doesn't matter how many times a day I see her; she never fails to take my breath away.

I'm a glutton for punishment I know, coveting the one person on this earth I absolutely cannot have.

But a man can dream, right?

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

I'm so busy trying not to notice Jane checking me out from his barstool that it barely even registers when I brush against someone as I pass.

"Sorry," I murmur.

The woman just smiles. "It's fine."

I don't believe it. It's Mackenzie Watson. She's wearing a blue cocktail dress and high heels twice as tall as mine, which I note resentfully, don't seem to be pitching her off-balance at all. She looks as comfortable as if she were wearing sneakers.

"It's these shoes," I say, lifting the hem of my dress a tiny bit so I can show her. "I hate these things."

"You just haven't got used to them yet. Give it an hour or two and you'll be fine."

An hour? We're still going to be here in an hour?

"I hope so," I say, just to keep the conversation going.

We smile politely at each other. "So, why haven't I met you before?" she asks of me. "I thought I knew everyone in town. I'm Mackenzie Watson."

"We just moved here, " I lie.

"We?"

Oh crap! See, this is why I hate doing undercover work. I suck at improvisation.

"Yes, my boyfriend and I."

"Oh, where's he?"

Good question Mackenzie. I quickly look around the room for a likely candidate but I know I only have one option here. There's only one person in this room she won't recognize. Jane.

Karma is playing a very mean trick on me.

"He's over at the bar," I say reluctantly, hating his stupid plan, hating this party, hating it all.

She turns to look and of course, he chooses that moment to flash me what he seems to think is an encouraging smile before Mitch diverts his attention by handing over a drink.

Mackenzie looks like she's been run over by a truck. This awed facial expression is a classic symptom of what I like to call 'The Jane Effect." There are few women on this earth able to withstand the supernatural force of Patrick Jane's smile and it looks like Mackenzie is to become yet another casualty.

"The blonde guy, sitting next to Mitch Parsons?" she asks, and I nod a confirmation. "Oh, he is gorgeous," she says to me, with a kind of faraway look in her eyes. "How did you two meet?"

My first encounter with Jane stands out in my mind for a number of reasons. Within five minutes of being introduced to one another, we managed to get into an argument culminating in me calling him a 'self-absorbed, egotistical jackass' and him trying to calm me by (unsuccessfully) putting me in a trance. In the end, Minelli was forced to step in when I threatened to strangle Jane with his suit jacket.

I still remember the smirk on Minelli's face as I returned to my desk, fuming.

"You better watch your step, Jane," he warned. "Teresa Lisbon is quite the little firecracker."

Jane just grinned at him. "Oh, I think we're going to get along just fine," he said.

And so began the most frustrating, bizarre partnership I've ever been in.

I realize that while I've been taking this little stroll down memory lane, Mackenzie has been waiting for a response.

"Work," I answer. "We met at work."

"Office romance huh? That's so sweet."

"You might call it that."

More like an endless power struggle with two sides battling for supremacy.

"What did you say your name was, again?" she enquires.

"I didn't. It's Teresa."

"Well Teresa, let me offer you a little piece of advice. Hang on tight to that scrummy man of yours, cause the vultures in this town will snatch him away from you as soon as you let your guard down." She sweeps her arm around the hall with these words, as if to implicate everybody.

"Speaking from experience?" I ask gently.

"Yes, unfortunately. The minute I turned my back one of the little tarts swooped in on my boyfriend and next thing I know, they're engaged and I'm alone."

Finally we're getting somewhere. "Which one is she?" I ask.

"She's not here tonight."

"Oh, I thought everyone in town turned up to these things."

"Yeah, they normally do. Weird huh?" She makes a secretive little smile. "Guess she had some other engagement. Well it was nice talking to you."

Before I can do or say anything, she turns on her heel and strolls back into the throng.

She's making a better suspect by the minute. There's a vibe about her that's…off somehow. If I had to put money down I'd say she's our girl, even though I have no evidence. It's just a feeling I have.

God, I'm starting to sound like Jane.

* * *

**Jane POV**

Mitch gulps down his seventh or eighth scotch and the glass tumbler hits the bar with a thud. So far I haven't managed to squeeze out any useful information so I subtly bring the conversation around to Justine Lyons.

"I saw on the news, the girl who got killed, she lived near here didn't she?"

He nods. "Justine. She was nice."

"Tell me about her."

"She was the kind of girl you noticed, if you know what I mean. Pretty. But never vain or self-centred. She made you laugh when you were feeling down and she'd always lend a hand if you needed it. But she wasn't a pushover. Smart, you know."

I'm a little surprised by the detail of this account. Mitch never struck me as paying any more attention then what was required in order to get some company for the night.

His eyes are sliding in and out of focus. I have to work fast, before the alcohol takes hold.

"You knew her well?'

"Well enough."

"You cared for her?" I venture.

He shakes his head. "Loved her. She was perfect."

"But she was engaged."

He laughs. "Ackerman's a loser. He didn't deserve her."

"But what made you think that you did? I mean you don't seem like the kind of guy who's heavily into commitment."

Suddenly, he becomes serious. "Patrick, did you ever just look at someone and suddenly know that they were the person for you?"

That's the way it was when I met my wife. But with Lisbon, it was different. It came on so gradually I didn't even realize it was happening.

"That's how it felt when I saw her," he continues. "But she didn't think I was serious when I told her so. She turned me down. And so I became this scotch swilling, womanizing asshole that you see now. It was easier that way."

"At least you had the guts to man up and tell her how you felt. I'm too cowardly to tell the woman I love how much she means to me."

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

I approach the bar. I want to tell Jane about Mackenzie Watson so he can go over there and work his magic. He's still sitting with Mitch. They're talking in low voices which I can just make out, when I get near enough.

"What's she like?" Mitch is asking.

Jane sips his water, and thinks for a moment. He hasn't noticed me.

"She's brilliant, passionate about her work and she never gives up when the going gets tough, she just works harder. She doesn't take crap from anybody, and she's got a way about her that demands respect. She's strong and independent and she kicks ass with the best of them."

Who is this mystery woman? I can't help but wonder, and what did she do to get Jane to talk about her with such reverence? And what the hell is he doing, screwing around with me while he's obviously hung up on her?

God I'm such an idiot. He doesn't have feelings for me at all. Maybe the kiss really was just for show, like he said. It wouldn't be the first time I misread his motives. Perhaps it was just a simple case of me seeing what wasn't actually there. In the immortal words of Cheap Trick, I wanted him to want me. Simple as that.

"But she's also got a great sense of humour, you know," Jane continues earnestly. "She protects the people she cares about. And of course, she's beautiful. That goes without saying. She's everything I never knew I wanted, until I met her."

Aw. That's actually kind of sweet. Whoever she is, she must be something pretty special. It has to be someone from work, because Jane doesn't have any other acquaintances as far as I know and it would also explain why he hasn't told her. The regulations are clear on office fraternization. Everyone knows that, except maybe Mia Tremaine.

Oh please, don't let it be Mia Tremaine.

"So why haven't you made your move?" Mitch wants to know.

"I'm no good for her. I'm screwed up. She deserves better."

"Why don't you let her be the judge of that?"

"It's not a matter of opinion. It's just a fact."

"Whatever you say, man."

"Besides," Jane goes on. "She's my boss. There are rules."

There's probably more to this sentence, but I'm focusing on three key words. 'She's my boss.' Jane has only one female superior that I know of, and that's well …me.

Oh hell. Could it be?

My heart begins to race.

I'm not sure I want to know the answer. It could change everything.

So I quickly leave before Jane can say anymore.

* * *

**Jane POV**

"Man, this is a depressing topic," says Mitch with forced cheerfulness. "Another drink?"

"I'm OK," I hold up my water glass.

He shrugs. "Barkeep! Another?"

The bartender immediately reaches for the scotch bottle. Ice cubes rattle as they tumble into the glass.

"So, since you're all whipped over this mystery woman, you wouldn't mind giving me the number of your pretty little brunette would you? Because I would very much like to have another shot with her, if you know what I mean."

Well that's not going to happen. No way. On the upside, he's had so much to drink he'll be face-down on the bar in the next few seconds so I'll just say I'll do it and use it as an excuse to leave.

"Sure. Why don't you sit and have your drink and I'll just go confirm it's the right number."

He beams up at me. "You're a good guy, Patrick."

"Back at you, Mitch," I say half-heartedly.

I move off across the room searching for Lisbon and eventually I spot her at one of the corner tables. Cautiously, I make my way over to her.

"How are you holding up?" I ask her, taking the seat next to her.

She stifles a yawn. "I'm exhausted," she complains. "I don't think I can keep this up much longer."

On closer inspection, I can see there are the beginnings of dark circles under her eyes.

"When was the last time you had a decent night's sleep?" I ask.

"Maybe a week ago," she murmurs.

"A week ago?" I ask incredulously. "What were you doing?"

"I had work to finish," she defends.

I get up from my seat. "Come on, we're going home."

"But I ran into Mackenzie Watson, and she-"

"We'll speak to her tomorrow."

"But-"

"Lisbon to be honest, I don't really care about Mackenzie Watson right now. My first and only priority is you."

"Last time I looked, I was the boss here," she grumbles, but starts to get up anyway.

"Come on. We've got more then enough inside knowledge for tonight."

It's a chilly night, and the crisp air takes us both by surprise as we get outside. As we wait for them to bring the car around, I can see that she's shivering. She wraps her arms around herself in a futile attempt to block out the cold.

I remove my suit jacket and move behind her to place it around her shoulders, but something strange happens. For some reason, I freeze before I can actually touch her and at the exact same moment, she jerks away from me as though I'm wielding an axe.

"What are you doing?" she demands.

I hold it out, like a shield. "Here. You looked cold."

"Oh. Thanks." She takes it gingerly from me, as though it is liable to explode at any moment, and puts it on.

Fortunately, the car arrives before the moment can get any stranger and I quickly claim the driver's seat before she can stop me. But she doesn't even put up a fight. She simply climbs into the passenger seat.

That's not like her. Why isn't she bickering with me and insisting I let her drive like always?

And why am I wordlessly accepting the situation without even trying to bait her about it?

It's like we started the evening off as friends and finished it as strangers.

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

I'm a lot warmer now I've got Jane's jacket. It smells like him, I notice, like the expensive cologne he likes to wear.

Neither of us had said a word to each other since we left the party, and the radio has been turned off, leaving us in a tense silence. It's the first time we've been truly alone together since the kiss and now we don't have the undercover stuff as a distraction and a conversational sounding board, I'm at a loss for what to do next.

Despite the fact we're riding in an SUV I feel strangely claustrophobic. There's not a whole lot of space in here between myself, Jane, and the elephant in the room.

The kiss is hanging over us like a dense cloud. Whatever kind of relationship we used to have has suddenly been upended and now we are being forced to negotiate the precarious new state of affairs that has me wondering if the next step is going to send me plummeting off a cliff.

Things have never been this awkward with Jane before. He'll irritate me and anger me until I'm ready to tear my hair out, he'll tease me and flirt with me and flatter me and sometimes confide in me but never before have I experienced a feeling like this where we have nothing at all to say to each other.

I glance over at him, his eyes fixated on the road.

* * *

**Jane POV**

I can feel her eyes on me as I'm driving, but for some reason, I can't even bring myself to make eye contact.

I've always been the man with the game plan, never at a loss for the next move, always ready to recalibrate if something went wrong but now, I feel like I don't even know what comes next.

It feels like forever before we arrive back at the CBI and I'm out of the car almost as soon as I've put in park beside my own car, the only one left in the lot.

Wordlessly, she comes around to the driver's side so she can take herself home and stretches out her hand for the keys. When I give them to her, our hands brush against each other for the briefest second and the physical contact is like a jolt of high voltage electricity.

In unison, we snatch our hands back, avoiding each other's gaze. Without further ado, she gets back into the car as if straining to get away from me.

I hate to leave things like this.

"See you tomorrow?" I venture.

She looks surprised that I have broken our code of silence.

"Sure."

"Good night, Agent Lisbon."

"Good night Mr Jane."

* * *

**Cho POV**

I'm no psychic but I'm not stupid either. Something's going on with Jane and Lisbon.

I don't mean the fact that they've not so secretly got the hots for each other, everyone knows that. They're more obvious then Rigsby and Van Pelt and half the office is expecting him to lose control one day and propose to her in the middle of the bullpen.

No, it's something else.

Jane was here when I got here this morning as usual, but Lisbon wasn't. That's a little weird but not enough to make me suspicious. They were at the party all last night after all, it makes sense that she might oversleep a bit.

When she arrived she walked straight to her office like always and Jane was pretending to be asleep as she passed him. On average, it normally takes Jane about one to three minutes to 'wake up' and follow her inside.

It's been twenty minutes so far, and he still hasn't budged.

There's something about this that doesn't sit right with me. Jane seems to have a kind of sixth sense when it comes to Lisbon, he can automatically read her moods and tell if she's happy or irritated or sad and within moments he'll be with her trying to cheer her up, or if he's feeling like being a pain in the ass, pissing her off even more. This morning, even I can tell that she's upset, but he's still pulling the sleep act when Van Pelt and Rigsby arrive.

When Lisbon comes out of her office a while later she doesn't spare him a glance as she tells us all what we'll be doing today.

"How was the party last night, boss?" Van Pelt wants to know. "You and Jane find out anything we can use?"

"It was fine," Lisbon snaps.

Van Pelt recoils slightly and wisely doesn't say anything more.

The morning passes slowly. Amanda Seine is coming in this afternoon so the morning is dedicated to going over all of our notes to see if there's anything we've missed in the case.

Jane suddenly sits up and walks over to the kitchen for his morning cup of tea, until he sees Lisbon standing there, stirring sugar into her coffee. Without missing a beat he retreats back to the couch, eyes fixed on her.

He waits until she is safely back in her office before he ventures out again.

Now I'm sure that something's up. On a normal day, Jane follows Lisbon around like a little lost puppy, (which I can tell she kind of enjoys, even if she'll never admit it) but today he's actively avoiding her.

If I needed any more confirmation that things are very, very wrong it comes at lunchtime.

Lisbon hasn't emerged from her office all day, except for coffee and Jane hasn't spoken a word to anyone. When lunch arrives, he walks slowly up to Lisbon's door.

And knocks.

Jane never knocks.

"What is it?" comes her voice from inside.

"Lunch," he announces, before grabbing his own and disappearing off to eat it in the kitchen. Lisbon opens her door and quickly looks around, presumably for Jane before she takes hers and shoots back into her office.

All right, that's it.

I turn to Rigsby and Van Pelt, who seem just as confused as me. Rigsby hasn't even opened his lunch yet.

"Something's up with Jane and Lisbon."

"How can we be sure?" asks Van Pelt.

"He knocked."

That's all I have to say for them to understand what's going on.

"Oh God," says Van Pelt, with a concerned frown. "Something's wrong."

"Do you think something happened last night at the party?" asks Rigsby.

"Like what?" asks Van Pelt.

"You know, maybe they got drunk and slept together or something."

She scoffs. "Please. Do you really imagine Lisbon doing something like that? Turn your brain on, Wayne."

"She's right," I put in. "There's no way."

"Wouldn't put it past Jane though," Rigsby remarks.

"Maybe we should ask them," suggests Van Pelt.

We both look at her in disbelief.

"Are you insane?" asks Rigsby. "She'd eat us alive. And Jane, well God only knows what he would do."

"So what do we do?" she wants to know.

"I guess we just keep an eye on them," I conclude. "We'll have to wait and see."

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

Standing just behind my office door, I hear my team theorizing about Jane and I. They're not idiots, of course they would realize something was up. And if I know my team it's only a matter of time before they find out what.

I am in deep, deep trouble.


	9. Chapter 9

**In honour of my birthday this week I would like to present to you the next chapter of "Denim Dilemmas." After all the angst lately, I thought we were long overdue for some fluff so I whipped up a double serving of Rigspelt and Jisbon. **

**This chapter is very T, though I did try to keep it contained.**

**Please enjoy!**

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

"Boss?"

Van Pelt's timid voice comes through the door.

"Yes?"

"Amanda Seine has just arrived."

I feel bad for sniping at her earlier. After all it's not her fault my professional and personal lives have suddenly been turned upside down.

Jane and I have been avoiding each other all day. It's like there's an exclusion zone around each of us that can't be breached and so we've been giving each other a wide berth.

The ridiculous thing is that even though he's technically only a few feet away, I'm missing him like crazy. No cheery 'good morning', no surprise coffee or snacks and no bickering. I never realized how much I had come to get used to these things until they were gone.

Our already fragile relationship is crumbling away by the moment.

But now we have an interview. We need to approach this as a team, a united front. On a good day, it sometimes feels like Jane and I share the same mind when we interrogate, perfectly in synch. We're a force to be reckoned with.

But today, who knows what will happen?

I push away my untouched salad and rise from my seat. Van Pelt is self-consciously hovering by the door.

"Who's going to take the interview?" she asks. "Cho?"

"No, I'll handle this one. Tell Jane to meet me in there."

I can't talk to him myself. I just can't.

"Sure."

Amanda Seine is already sitting down when I get to the interview room. She's a tall woman with auburn hair pulled back in a tight bun and she regards me with derision.

"Well it's about time." She has a sharp voice that seems to grate against my ears.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Mrs Seine. I'm Agent Lisbon."

"I came here out of courtesy and so far I don't like the way I've been treated," she complains.

"With all due respect ma'am, if you hadn't presented yourself today I would have been forced to charge you with obstruction of justice. I'm sure Agent Van Pelt informed you of that when she spoke to you yesterday."

"Yes she did. And she was very demanding about it I might add. I don't appreciate being addressed like some kind of criminal."

I take a deep breath. I'm really not in the mood for this today and she's already trying my patience.

"She was just doing her job. This is a murder investigation and by law you are obligated to tell us what you know."

"I'm quite aware of the laws Agent Lisbon," she says haughtily. "My husband is a barrister."

The door opens and Jane slips into the room.

"Sorry I'm late," he mumbles in my direction but not looking me in the eye.

"Mrs Seine, this is Mr. Jane. He's assisting with the case."

Jane takes the seat next to me but pulls it across so he's as far away from me as the table will allow. I make a point of not showing how much that bothers me.

So much for a united front.

"Why don't we start with the altercation with the victim, Justine Lyons?" I consult my notes. "Six months ago."

Amanda sighs. "Ancient history."

"Nevertheless it's still a pretty good motive. She took out an AVO against you."

She shakes her head. "Typical Justine. Always making mountains out of molehills. It wasn't even that big a deal. I told her that the dress she was wearing was hideous and she took offense to it. Words were exchanged."

"Followed by you slapping Justine, is that right?"

"Yes. I told her if she didn't shut her mouth, I'd shut it for her. She didn't listen."

"That wasn't the first time you disagreed on something, was it?" Jane chimes in.

I'd almost forgotten he was here.

"No. Justine and I didn't see eye-to-eye on many things. Doesn't mean I killed her."

"I agree. Thank you Mrs. Seine, you can go." He gets up from his chair.

"That's it?" Amanda asks incredulously.

"She can go, can she?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "What's the point of keeping her here? She didn't do it."

"According to you."

"And how often have I been wrong?"

"That's not the point. I am in charge here, not you and I decide these things."

All the crazy emotions I've been bottling up from last night are starting to boil over. All the confusion, lust, jealousy, frustration and awkwardness is building up inside me and somehow all meshing together into a white-hot fury.

No. I will not lose control. I've only just managed to get rid of the 'lunatic' tag I earned myself during the case with McTeer. Like an idiot, I took Jane's advice and made a fool of myself in front of the entire department.

Though the chair-through-the-window part was kind of fun. And we did nail Carmen. Together. We were a team. I remember him bringing me doughnuts and accusing Bosco of being in love with me. "Hard to fathom," he said. "But there's no accounting for taste." I threw the doughnuts at him and he darted out the door without another word.

There's a pang as I think about how that easiness we once had has now been replaced with a frosty awkwardness.

"You would have let her go anyway," Jane deflects smoothly, bringing my mind back to the conversation. "We've got nothing to hold her on and she has an alibi."

"Even an airtight alibi can fall apart if you push hard enough."

"What makes you so sure it's her?"

"What makes _you _so sure it's not? I am doing my job, Jane and that requires me to look at every possible avenue."

"Which we have done, and I can conclude with certainty that this particular avenue is a dead end."

I don't know what's pissing me off more, the patronizing tone or the even more patronizing smile. Maybe it's both. Maybe it's everything. Right now, I hate everything about him, from the curly hair on his head to the scuffed bottoms of his shoes.

Scuffed shoes. He once solved a case on the basis of scuffed shoes. I remember the satisfaction in his eyes as he explained to the guy how he'd figured it out. He was so pleased with himself, almost child-like in his happiness.

This time it's Amanda who interrupts my musings. "Excuse me Agent Lisbon," she snarls, like the requirement of politeness is causing her great pain, "I'm confused. Am I allowed to leave or not?"

"No," I answer, sharply.

"Yes," says Jane pleasantly, at precisely the same moment.

"What the hell kind of police work is this?" she demands, throwing her hands in the air in frustration.

I want to storm out of the room, but I also want to stay right here and arrest the woman just because she's a cow and then smack that insufferable smirk off Jane's face.

There's only one thing I can do.

With as much dignified calm as I can muster, I walk over to the door. "Cho?" I call. The tone of my voice surprises me. The airiness betrays the seething pit of resentment within.

He's here within moments.

"What is it, boss?"

"Could you please take Mrs Seine to Room 3 and continue the interview there?"

"No problem. Ma'am, if you could follow me…" He gestures to Amanda who reluctantly rises, as if she's just been disturbed in watching her favourite television program. He raises an eyebrow at me, as if to ask what's going on. I shake my head the tiniest amount, and that's enough. He makes no more enquiries, verbal or otherwise.

Thank God for Cho. An agent couldn't ask for a better right-hand man. If I ever get over my selfish desire to keep my team together, I'll write him the recommendation to lead his own team that I know he deserves.

Amanda's eyes are flickering from Jane to me and back again with increasing curiosity.

"This way please, Mrs Seine," Cho prompts firmly, and she follows him out.

Now it's just Jane and I. Alone again.

"Interesting tactic," he remarks. "But I'm sure you had your reasons, Oh Great One." He mock-bows.

The anger inside me continues to brew, but simply yelling at him or even slapping him won't satisfy it. I don't want to hate him, but I have to try, because admitting that I love him would be worse.

Why did he have to kiss me? And why did I have to let him? All this morning, I've been thinking about what it might be like to be with him and I want it so badly I feel like I'm about to implode.

And after what I heard him say to Mitch last night, I'll bet he wants it too.

This is a mess.

I have to get out.

* * *

**Jane POV**

I study the features of the face I know so well, and have come to love so much, and they are alien to me. The firm set of her jaw, the crease in her forehead. Of course, an angry Lisbon is nothing new to me but this is something beyond mere anger. There's a shadow in her eyes. Sadness. Disappointment.

If there were ever a time I wished I could actually read minds, it's now.

No matter. She'll tell me herself soon enough when her bottled up anger inevitably becomes a furious tirade.

Any second now…

She stands straight, shoulders back and head held high, assuming her traditional take-charge battle stance.

To my great surprise and horror, she turns on her heel and marches out of the interrogation room.

She doesn't come back.

* * *

**Rigsby POV**

I could really use a biscuit. Maybe two. Chocolate-coated would be nice. I wonder if we have any in the kitchen cupboard.

"Wayne? Are you all right? You look a little dazed."

Grace smiles at me over the top of her computer monitor. She's something else that I love smothered in chocolate. Particular, wicked thoughts of last night come to me. Yum.

"I'm fine. Just thinking about how pretty you look in the glow of the computer screen."

She glares at me, scandalized. "Shhh! Not here!"

"What? Saying that you're attractive is like saying night is dark, or pizza is delicious. It's just a fact."

That gets a smile out of her. "Stop it."

"It's true. You're the hottest woman in the office, hands down. Ask anyone."

"Guess I'm slumming it then, being with you. Anyway I think I know at least one person who would disagree with your theory."

"Who? Mia Tremaine?"

"Ugh. No. I meant Jane. He's only got eyes for one person, and it sure isn't me."

Something I'm eternally grateful for. If he ever set his sights on Grace, that'd be the end for me.

I take a quick look around. We're alone in the bullpen and I don't see anyone approaching. I duck behind her and plant a quick kiss on the top of her head.

"Do you think they'll ever get it together?" she asks. "Jane and Lisbon?"

I gently squeeze her shoulders. "I dunno."

She reaches up and covers my hand with hers. "I hope they do. They deserve a little happiness."

Grace is always thinking of others. That's why I love her.

A door bursts open and I spring guiltily away from her. Lisbon comes striding into the bullpen with the ice-melting glare she usually reserves for Jane. He must have really done it this time.

"I'm going for coffee," she barks. "Real coffee, not the watered-down car brake fluid that seems to fit the bill around here. Cho's finishing up with Seine so I need you two to hold down the fort until I get back."

The tone of her voice makes it clear that there is be no questions or negotiations, so we simply nod our understanding.

"Oh, and do _not_ tell Jane where I've gone. If I don't get away from him for a while I'm probably going to murder him."

She turns her back on us, and stamps over to the elevator. She slices through a cluster of other agents who hastily leap aside to let her pass. Everyone eyes her surreptitiously until she steps inside, the doors close, and she disappears from view.

There's a brief silence, and then a babble of talk breaks out.

"Holy crap."

"Did you see her eyes? They were like laser beams!"

"Who wants to bet that had something to do with Jane?"

"Had to be. Who else would be brave enough to piss her off like that?"

"Brave? Don't you mean stupid?"

"I was thinking insane."

I turn to Grace, blocking out the gossip now swirling around the room. She's still looking at the elevator doors. "I hope she's alright," she says presently. "She seems really upset."

"Yeah," I agree. "But she's been acting weird all day. They both have."

"What are you two whispering about?"

Jane seems to materialize out of nowhere; apparently oblivious to the questioning glances he's getting from everyone in the room. "Not up to any _illicit affairs_ are you?"

"No," I refute, a little too quickly.

"Really?"

Oh God. He knows.

Well of course he knows Wayne, you idiot. He's Jane.

Grace flushes a delicate pink and I avert my eyes from Jane's.

Smirking, he settles himself on his couch, but first carefully scanning the room for something, and I'd bet the last doughnut that I know what it is.

"She's not here."

"Who?" It takes him a microsecond longer than usual for him to answer and that's how I know he's paying attention. If you ever need to get Jane's interest, all you have to do is mention Lisbon, even just in passing, and suddenly he's all ears.

She's his favourite subject matter in the world. Other than himself of course.

"Lisbon. She went out."

"Did she now?" Jane asks, would-be casually. "Did she say where?"

"We're under strict orders not to tell you."

Jane looks crestfallen. "She said that?"

"Yep. She also said that if she didn't get away from you for a while, she'd probably murder you."

He waves a hand dismissively. "She always says that. That's Lisbon. All threat and no follow-through."

I snicker. "I dare you to say that to her while she's got her gun in her hand."

He laughs.

"She looked really mad," Graces chimes in. "What did you do to her?"

He sits up, apparently insulted. "Me? Why is it that whenever Lisbon is in a bad mood, it has to be my fault?"

"Because it usually is," I point out.

Jane has no answer for that. He knows it's true.

* * *

**Jane POV**

Touché. I guess I'll have to give him that one. But it in this case, it really, genuinely isn't my fault.

We're still on shaky ground after The Incident and I really have been doing my best today not to antagonize her. I know she needs space and time to try and get her head together and I've been trying to give her that.

Sure, we had a slight disagreement in the interrogation room but that was work. It wasn't anything _personal. _

Maybe she thinks I'm avoiding her. But she's avoiding me too. That interview was the first time we've made eye contact all day.

I wonder if she knows that when Cho and Amanda left, I had to exercise all my self-restraint not to take her into my arms and pick up where we left off last night.

At some point last night, we came to a silent agreement that The Incident never happened, but if that's true, why don't we know how to act around one another?

And why can I think of nothing else?

The answer is simple. It meant something to both of us. If there was any doubt in my mind of my feelings for her, it has well and truly been erased.

I love her. I want to be with her. I want to comfort her when she's sad and take care of her when she's sick. I want to fall asleep with her in my arms and wake up to find that she's still there in the morning. I want all that.

It's selfish and it's cruel. I can't offer her any kind of stability or commitment; I can't even offer her a whole person, I've been so warped by desire for revenge. She deserves someone whose focus will be on her and her alone, rather than someone who walks amongst the shadows every night in his dreams, never knowing if this time they're going to swallow him whole.

I know all this, and I truly believe it, but it still isn't enough to deter me from having a relationship with her.

At the very least, I want to get rid of this terrible weirdness that has descended over us and go back to where we were. It's killing me.

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

I sip the now lukewarm coffee I'm holding as the elevator carries me to the Serious Crimes Floor. The break has done me good and the anger has all but disappeared.

There are several curious glances in my direction as I head back to my office and I pause by Van Pelt's desk.

"What's new?" I ask her.

"Seine's a no-go," she reports. "Cho said her alibi's solid."

"Did we confirm?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Yep. Verified by the staff at the hairdresser she was at, and they sent over CCTV footage as well." She points to a black-and-white image on the screen frozen in place in which Amanda Seine is visible with her hair in one of those heinous streaking caps.

I smirk as I think about what she'd say if she knew I was watching this.

"See if you can dig up anything else on Mackenzie Watson," I tell her.

"Sure boss. Why?"

"I just have a hunch. And also check out a Mitch Parsons while you're at it. We should cover all bases."

"Can do."

As I continue on my way, I just can't help but flick my eyes towards Jane's couch, where he's dozing peacefully. Some things never change.

A few more forms have been added to my in-tray in my absence and there's a scrap of paper half-hidden under my computer keyboard. I pull it out and make to throw it in the bin until I see there's writing on it.

_Lisbon,_

_I can't keep this avoidance thing up for much longer. I'm missing you too much._

My heart skips a beat.

_We need to talk about what happened between us. It's the only way we can fix this. Suggest a time and place and I'll be there. _

_Jane. _

As much as I hate to admit it, he's right. We do need to talk. And I can see that he's letting me choose a circumstance I can be comfortable with. I scribble something on the other side and leave my office. When I'm sure nobody's watching, I slip it into his jacket pocket. He's left it lying across the couch again so I have to be extra quiet not to wake him up.

"Boss?" Cho calls, and I slink away. The die is cast. The rest is up to fate.

* * *

**Jane POV**

I spot the note as soon as I wake up sticking out of my jacket pocket. I grab it, and read the short message.

_J,_

_Tonight. My place. Eight o' clock. _

_L._

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

It's 7:56. Every few seconds, I glance at the clock again as I pace up and down my living room floor. This was a bad idea. I should have suggested somewhere more neutral like a diner, or a coffee shop or something. I thought that I might be more relaxed at home, but it's only making me even more agitated. I couldn't keep my mind on work this afternoon, because I was so busy planning what I'm going to say.

I don't think I've been this nervous since my job interview at the CBI, years ago. My hands are starting to shake.

I hear footsteps outside. They're getting closer.

There's a knock at the door.

* * *

**Jane POV**

I admit, it took a few attempts for me to pluck up the courage to actually knock on her door, but she doesn't have to know that, does she? God help me if she ever finds out the effect she has on me. She's one woman for Christ's sake and she somehow managed to throw my entire world into disarray.

The door opens slowly. She's wearing jeans and a green camisole top and her hair is loosely falling over her shoulders.

"I'm a little disappointed. I was really hoping you'd be wearing the football jersey."

She chuckles. "Season's over. Sorry about that."

I grin at her. "So, are you going to let me in?"

She hesitates, and then steps into the hall, closing the door behind her. "I'd rather not."

"You're not embarrassed are you? I've seen your place before."

"It's not that. It's just that I'd rather keep this short."

Everything feels oddly formal.

"Floor's yours."

She takes a deep breath. "What happened last night…it was a mistake. Things got weird and it just went a little too far. I think we should just put it behind us and move on."

I was prepared for this, but it still hurts a little that she can dismiss it so easily.

"Well, that sounds sensible," I respond dryly.

She exhales, and a relieved smile crosses her face. "Good. Well, goodnight."

She turns around and fumbles for the door handle. I reach for her hand to gently restrain her.

"You didn't let me say my piece."

"But you agreed with me. You said-"

"I said it sounded sensible," I interject. "That doesn't mean I agreed."

She seems to become aware that I have yet to let go of her hand, and whatever she was planning to say next dies on her lips.

"That kiss is all I've been thinking about," I say softly, eyes locked on hers. "I haven't been able to get you out of my head since it happened. Do you know why?"

She shakes her head.

"Because it meant something to me. Did it mean something to you?"

"No," she answers hastily, trademark blush starting make its way across her cheeks.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course! It was stupid. You'd been drinking and I was exhausted. Sleep deprivation does things to your head."

"Don't trivialize it, Lisbon. You know as well I do that it wasn't just a drunken encounter. And I'll prove it to you."

I let her hand go and instead gently rest my hands on either side of her face. Slowly, I lean in and press a feather-light kiss to her lips. The contact is brief and I don't give it a chance to go any further.

"Tell me you didn't feel anything just then."

"I didn't." She can't look me in the eye. It's a dead giveaway that she's lying.

"Don't lie to me, Lisbon. You had plenty of time to pull away, but you didn't. Why?"

"I don't know! Please just go," she begs me.

Part of me wants to agree, just so I won't have to hear the desperation in her voice anymore. But I can't, I have to know where I stand.

"Look me in the eye and tell me there's nothing there. If you can do that I'll leave, and I'll never bring it up again."

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

This kind of thing is exactly what I was hoping to avoid. Did I feel something last night?

Yes.

Do I feel something right now?

Oh, God yes.

Defiantly, I meet his gaze.

"I don't feel anything for you," I state, intentionally making my voice colder than strictly necessary. "You are my consultant, a colleague. That's it."

He chuckles. "Not bad. I almost believed you."

"It's the truth," I persist, holding my ground.

He runs a finger along my collarbone, which leaves a sizzling sensation in its wake, like my skin's about to catch fire. This is bad. This is very bad.

I know I should slap his hand away, but his touch is electrifying and every theory I had about why the two of us together would be such a bad idea, is flying out of my head.

"No it isn't." I know that look. He's calling my bluff. I've seen him do it to countless people.

"It is."

He grins, and finally draws his hand away. "So this is having no effect on you whatsoever, right?"

"Right." If I focus on the conversation, I might be able to get through it without caving in.

"So if I kissed you again, you wouldn't care?"

"No. Well I'd care, but only because it would be unprofessional and totally inappropriate. No other reason."

God help me. I don't even believe myself.

"Right. Care to test that theory?"

He leans towards me again and I just can't fight it anymore. I close the distance between us and it's like the cloakroom all over again. His arms are tight around my waist and mine have entwined themselves around his neck.

The kiss is not as urgent as the first time, it's slower and more sensual as he holds me still tighter until I can't figure out where my body ends and his begins. The protesting little voice in my head from last time has been silenced as I deepen the kiss.

And this time I don't push him away.

* * *

**Jane POV**

I can't quite believe this is happening. We're now inside her apartment and I'm peppering kisses across her collarbone. And she's not stopping me.

So maybe I should put an end to this, before things get out of hand. I pause in my thorough exploration of her body.

"Don't stop," she moans, in a husky kind of voice that makes me want her even more.

Oh, who am I kidding? I can't resist her anytime. Why would now be any different?

"Yes ma'am," I murmur in response, fingers creeping under the hem of her top.

She giggles.

The kissing grows steadily hotter and hotter and we stumble across the living room towards the couch. I pull her down on top of me. Just as I expected, she's light as a feather and her skin is warm under my fingers as they get further and further under her camisole.

This is usually the part in my late-night fantasies when the phone rings or something else happens to snap me back to reality. But not tonight, because this is no fantasy. This is _real. _

Distracting her with gentle caresses, I finally succeed in getting her top off and deposit the loathsome thing on the floor next to the couch. My button-up shirt soon follows it.

"Wait," The problem with talking is that to make any kind of sense, I have to stop kissing her.

"What is it?" she whispers.

"We can do better than a couch."

In one motion I'm off the couch and sweeping her into my arms, like some pretentious leading man in those romantic comedies I hate so much.

I carry her into the bedroom and kick the door shut behind us. The slam echoes around the otherwise silent apartment.

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

The sunlight streams in through the window, casting a pleasant glow over everything in my room. Jane is asleep next to me, arm wrapped around my waist with his head so close to mine I can feel his breath on my neck.

I should be freaking out right now, but all I'm feeling is delicious satisfaction. If only I could stay all day in this blissful little bubble.

He starts to stir and soon I'm greeted by one of those gorgeous smiles.

"Good morning, beautiful," he whispers and kisses my neck, delighted when I blush instantly.

"What are you so happy about?" I ask, wriggling out of his grasp and rolling over to face him.

"It's not every day I get to wake up with an angel in my arms."

I roll my eyes at him. "You're pathetic."

"Come on. Most women would love that line."

"I'm not most women."

"I know. That's why you're my Lisbon."

"I'm not _your _anything."

"Well, maybe not yet. But you will be."

The annoying thing is, he's probably right.

He looks over at the clock on my bedside table.

"Crap. I should get home."

"What for?"

"Don't you think someone will notice if I walk into work wearing the same clothes as yesterday, with my hair a mess? I have a reputation to uphold."

He quickly dresses and heads for the door.

"Let me guess. This never happened right?" he enquires, as I walk him out.

I nod.

"Seems that we've got a lot of secrets at the moment."

He gives me a quick kiss goodbye.

"We can't keep pushing things away forever you know, sooner or later it's going to come back and bite us," he says solemnly.

"I know. I just have to figure out how I feel about all this. Right now, I don't have a clue."

"I'll tell you what, when this case is closed, I'm taking you on an actual date, and you can tell me then."

"But-"

"Great! So it's settled. See you soon."

He kisses me once more and leaves me alone with my thoughts.


	10. Chapter 10

**Here we have the next instalment. Paring and rating both remain the same. I'm not 100% happy with this one but I really wanted to have it posted before I went away.**

**Jane POV**

It's not often in life when reality tops fantasy. We crave something so much, build it up so highly in our minds that when we finally get it, we feel a kind of disappointment that it wasn't everything we hoped it would be.

Spending that first night with Teresa Lisbon did _not _fall into that category. It turned out to be better then I ever could have imagined. And it wasn't just the sex (not that that part wasn't fantastic of course) it was everything. Like afterwards, when she fell asleep and the moonlight gave her skin a kind of iridescence that made her look more like a goddess then ever before. It dawned on me then how goddamn lucky I was that she was mine, even if just for the night.

But my favourite part was the bit when she murmured my name in her sleep and snuggled herself into me as close as she could get.

I haven't slept so well in years.

I think about how disappointed she looked when I told her I had to go. If it had been up to me, we'd have both called in sick and spent the whole day in bed. But that would've looked suspicious and anyway, we're in the middle of a case. Lisbon's far too professional to allow herself to get distracted from her work.

I get into my car and turn the key in the ignition. My wedding ring makes a faint clicking noise as it makes contact with the steering wheel.

It's been six years since I lost everything I held dear. Now, little pieces of the man I once was are starting to come back and I owe all that to Lisbon. I don't think my wife would be angry. She'd want me to move on and start living again instead of just going through the motions of every day, waiting for the one when I run across Red John once again.

I can't abandon my need for revenge. But in the meantime, I can try and get some semblance of a life back.

And this, whatever it is I have with Lisbon now, makes for a decent start.

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

As I close the door behind him, I feel an immediate sense of loss. The warm, fuzzy afterglow starts to wear off and the anxiety is setting in.

I don't regret what happened last night. That's the big surprise. Sure, the 'hard-ass Special Agent' part of me is up in arms, but the 'human woman in love' part is feeling pretty happy right now.

If anybody at work finds out what happened, I don't know what I'll do.

Work. Where I'm supposed to be in an hour.

Back in my bedroom, I grab the first acceptable outfit I lay my hands on and make a beeline for the shower, sidestepping my rumpled clothes from last night, which are strewn all over the floor.

Good God, how did my jeans get all the way over _there?_

Oh yes, I threw them didn't I? Just before I got on top of him and…well, there's no need to go into that.

Thirty minutes later, my makeup is applied and my hair done and my mind is on the case as I reach for my car keys.

As I pass through the living room, something green catches my attention. I move to pick it up.

It's my top.

Even though there's nobody else around, I can still feel myself blushing furiously as I think about how it came to be there. Hastily, I scoop it up and throw it into the laundry basket.

Fortunately, Jane's shirt, which also ended up on the floor during our passionate little session, is not here. He must have taken it with him.

That's a relief. Otherwise I would've had to find some way to give it back at him at work, and I'm not ready to take on that minefield just yet. Or ever.

* * *

**Van Pelt POV**

As always, I'm the first of our team to get into work. Of course, Wayne is not far behind me as we both just came from his place, but we agreed he should drive around the block a couple of times before he comes inside. Otherwise we might as well walk into the building screaming, "We're sleeping together!" at the top of our lungs.

I sit down at my computer and begin finishing up the background checks I was doing on Mackenzie and Mitch yesterday.

Soon enough, the elevator pings and both Wayne and Jane step out of it.

"Morning Van Pelt," says Wayne, a little too formally to be believable, and winks at me when he thinks Jane isn't looking.

"I saw that," Jane informs him in an undertone and turns to me, "Good morning Grace," he greets me cheerily. "Isn't a wonderful day to be alive?" He hits me full-force with one of his patented grins.

I can only guess that this good mood means that he and Lisbon have made up. Thank God. It's way too quiet around here without hearing them sniping at each other from inside her office. Lisbon swears blind that she only calls him in there to tell him off, but the amount of times they've both emerged with mile-wide smiles on their faces makes me think that a considerable amount of flirting goes on in there as well.

And God only knows what else.

"Morning guys," I say, smiling at them.

The elevator pings again, this time carrying Cho who has his nose in a book. He grunts a response to our greetings and raises an acknowledging hand in our general direction as he sits down.

Jane heads into the kitchenette and starts preparing his cup of tea along with a cup of coffee presumably for Lisbon, who should be arriving within the next two minutes if she keeps to her normal schedule.

Sure enough, the elevator pings once more and the doors open to reveal our fearless leader with her cell phone pressed to her ear, rolling her eyes at whatever the other person is saying.

"That's really not necessary, Detective McKay," she's saying. "I can assure you we are well-equipped to handle this-"

Her irritation is evident as McKay cuts her off. She listens for a moment, and then sighs resignedly.

"Of course, that's your right. This is a joint investigation after all. What time am I to expect you?"

Another brief silence.

"All right, we'll see you then…Brandon." She snaps the phone shut, scowling.

Wayne catches my eye. _"Brandon?"_ he mouths.

"What did he want?" Cho asks her, closing his book.

"He thinks we're moving too slowly so he's coming by to _help _us out," she says irritably. "Right now, we're at square one and if we don't come up with something soon we're going to be the laughingstock of the CBI and Sausalito P.D."

I can't help but wonder if McKay is the only thing that's bothering her, but I'm not about to ask her. Been there, done that. Let Jane coax it out of her, he's got the best chance of finding out without getting his head ripped off.

She looks at her watch. "He's going to be here in four hours, and I want to see some serious progress by the time he gets here. Van Pelt how are those background checks coming?"

"Almost done."

"Good. Let me know if you find something."

She walks into her office, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Just then, Jane emerges from the kitchenette with the two cups.

"Lisbon here? I thought I heard her dulcet tones."

"In her office," says Wayne. He lowers his voice. "Watch out man, she's a bit touchy this morning."

"Meh. Don't worry, I'll straighten her out."

Confidently, he strides to her door and without waiting for invitation, lets himself in.

Honestly, I think the man has a death wish.

* * *

**Jane POV**

"Coffee time!" I announce, pushing open the door to Lisbon's office.

"It better be a strong one," she grumbles as I hand over the cup.

"Why? Busy night?"

She glares at me but doesn't rise to the bait. No worries, I'm just getting warmed up. I perch myself on the edge of her desk.

"Most people would think you're angry but I can see you've got a bit of sparkle in your eyes this morning my dear. Someone special in your life perhaps?"

The glare intensifies.

"Let me guess. He's exceptionally handsome, roguishly charming, impossibly intelligent, with a rapier-sharp wit."

"What makes you say that?" Every word is dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, a woman as clever as you I'm sure has impeccable taste in men."

"I don't know about that. I made some pretty major oversights with this guy. For one, he didn't seem to get the memo that three-piece suits went out of style with shoulder pads and fluoro tights."

"Oh?"

"Yes and he also has an extremely exaggerated sense of his own importance. To tell you the truth, he's kind of a jerk." She glares at me some more.

Oh I love it when she gets all fired up like this.

"That's a shame," I say airily. "Personally, I spent the night with a very special young woman. Brilliant. Stunning. Lots of spunk." I reach for her hand. "And I would very much like to see her again, if she's interested."

She snatches her hand away, looking around frantically as if someone is about to leap out and fire us both on the spot.

"I thought we agreed it never happened!" she whispers, angrily.

"I don't understand Lisbon. To what are you referring?"

"You know exactly what I mean Jane. Don't try my patience."

"You shouldn't let yourself get so stressed, it's not good for your health. Makes you look haggard."

"It does not," she retorts, but I can tell she's itching to get her hands on a mirror so she can see for herself.

"I'm kidding," I reassure her. "You look the same as always."

"And what's that?"

"Beautiful."

Before she can stop me, I lean forward and steal a quick kiss.

"Are you insane?" she asks incredulously. "Do you _want _us to get caught?""

"Caught doing what? According to you, nothing happened."

With that, I pick up my tea and leave her office. That should give her some food for thought.

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

I really need to stop letting Jane corner me like that. If someone had walked in and seen that kiss, one of us would be out of a job.

I feel slightly ashamed that the fear of being caught was the only thing stopping me from pulling him down onto my desk and getting back to where we were last night. The man is too irresistible for his own damn good. And certainly for mine.

There's a napkin under my coffee cup that I didn't notice before. There's a drawing of a heart on it, with our initials inside it. I snort in disbelief; it's just so high school. I thought we were adults here.

My cynical brain roars it approval at this analysis. But I've never felt my heart flutter this way before, and I just have to look at it again. In spite of myself, I can feel a smile crossing my face.

Oh no. The last thing I need right now is more warm and fuzzy feelings for Jane. Have to throw it out.

I pick it up and my hand hovers over the trashcan.

Just throw it out Teresa.

Just open your hand and release it.

But I can't resist looking at it one more time. A flock of butterflies seems to have taken up residence in my stomach and even though I'm sitting down, there's a certain kind of giddiness.

I guess it wouldn't hurt if I kept it. Nobody would know.

Decision made, I fold it up and slip it into my pocket.

* * *

**Jane POV**

I wonder if she's found my little message yet. Childish, I know, but I'll bet it put a smile on her face, even if just for a moment. Mission accomplished.

"What's up with the boss?" asks Cho off-handedly, as if he couldn't care less about the answer, but I know better. Beneath that frosty exterior is the kind of loyalty you don't often find. He's never said, and she's never asked, but it's clear to me that he'd go to hell and back for her. They've got each other's backs to the bitter end. They've always been that way, as long as I've known them.

It's a good thing. Sometime in the future, I will inevitably do her irreparable emotional damage. Whether it be Red John related, or by my own stupidity something will happen that she simply can't forgive. I take small comfort in the fact that when that day comes, Cho will be there for her, in his own strange way.

But for now, back to our conversation.

"Nothing a good dose of caffeine won't fix," I answer him, casually.

He nods once. "Fair enough." He returns to his work.

"The last thing she needs right now is coffee," Van Pelt says in a concerned kind of tone. "She's wired enough as it is and McKay's been on her case. He's even coming by today to check up on us."

"Hey I'd have made her a camomile tea, but I can't afford to keep replacing all the cups she keeps 'accidentally' smashing in a caffeine-deprived frenzy. The bill's reached triple digits."

Rigsby laughs. "It's lucky the cleaning crew are all so terrified of her or else they probably would've killed her by now."

"So, our old pal McKay is dropping by today, huh?"

Van Pelt nods. "Does anyone else think it's weird that he and Lisbon are on first-name terms?"

"It wasn't her idea," I point out. "He seems to be a little taken with our Lisbon. It'd be kind of sweet if it wasn't so pathetic."

"Yeah because it's not like anyone else we know has a puppy-dog crush on Lisbon or anything," says Cho, not lifting his eyes from his computer screen. "Bringing her coffee all the time, following her around, pestering her day and night."

I take offence to that. I do not have a 'crush.' What I feel for Lisbon is far beyond such petty emotions.

"Oh Cho, you're finally learning to talk about your feelings. That's a big step in the right direction my friend." OK, I know that was a low blow but I need to get this conversation out of these dangerous waters. If Lisbon overheard, she'd freak out and then I'd never even have a chance to be with her.

Rigsby and Van Pelt both snort with laughter and Cho turns the steely glare on me that makes suspects squirm. He opens his mouth.

"What's going on?"

I've been saved by the reappearance of the woman in question who has just emerged from her office.

Van Pelt and Rigsby exchange panicked looks and Cho immediately goes back to his work. I guess it's up to me to get us all out of this one. If she finds out we were talking about her behind her back…

"Cho was just telling me that Detective McKay will be gracing us with his presence today," I tell her. She makes a face at the mention of the name.

"Yes he will. And I'd really like to be able to give him a solid lead when he gets here." She looks to the others. "Tell me you guys have got something."

Cho shakes his head. "Sorry boss."

Rigsby shrugs. "Nada."

She groans in annoyance. I can see the tension in her expression and I wish we could be alone somewhere so I could kiss it away for her.

Van Pelt is grinning. "Eureka," she says quietly.

Lisbon's mood seems to lift slightly. "Eureka?" she repeats. "Eureka is good. What did you find?"

"I dug a little deeper into Mackenzie's past and I found out that her name wasn't always Watson."

"She's married?" Lisbon asks.

"No, but she was once. Husband's name was Joel Campbell. They were only married half a year before they got divorced. So I ran a search for the name Mackenzie Campbell and I discovered some interesting stuff."

"What'd you find out?"

"Turns out our victim wasn't the first to take out a restraining order against her. I found a record of an AVO requested by a Regina Wilson for stalking and intimidation. Apparently Mackenzie has a bit of a history for fixating on other people's men."

"Has she ever spent time in a mental facility?" I ask.

"Not that I saw, but I found several referral letters from psychiatrists suggesting that it would be a good idea. And I did find a link between her and Mitch Parsons, boss," she says to Lisbon. "Apparently they co-own a real estate development company. They build office blocks, condos, that kind of thing."

I look to Lisbon. "Mitch isn't involved in this. He's slimy yes, but he isn't a killer. Besides he was in love with Justine."

"So? A lot of people we arrest claim that they were in love with their victims."

"Yeah. Right up to the part where they shoot them, or poison them, or bash their heads in with a baseball bat," says Rigsby. "So much for happily ever after."

"Speaking of baseball bats, cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head. We found her body near one of their construction sites. Could a plank have done it?" asks Lisbon.

"Autopsy report says it's possible."

"OK so she had motive, means and opportunity. I like her for this, but how do we prove it? We don't have any evidence and she'll just lawyer up again like last time if we pull her in for questioning."

"She's not stupid. She won't say a word to us. We need to trick her into confessing," I say.

"How?"

"I noticed you talking to her at the party. Did she say anything interesting?"

"She said that Justine had broken up her relationship, and she told me to watch my back."

"Why?'

She pauses, as though she really doesn't want to say the next part. "I sort of had to tell her you were my boyfriend," she admits quietly.

Rigsby and Van Pelt both chuckle and even Cho cracks a smile.

"She put me on the spot!" she says, defensively. "Jane was the only guy there that she didn't know!"

This does nothing to dispel the others' amusement. I very badly want to join in, but the withering 'don't you dare' glare she's sending my way is enough to stop me.

"Are you two finished?" she asks Rigsby and Van Pelt and they both clam up instantly.

"We might be able to use that," I say, reassuringly. "Leave it with me for a while. I'll come up with something."

"Well don't take too long. I'd love it if McKay got here and found that we'd already made an arrest." She turns to Van Pelt. "You did well to find all this information. Good work."

Van Pelt beams at the praise. "Thanks, boss."

I wonder if Lisbon knows just how much that comment means to Van Pelt.

Conversation over, I retreat back to my couch, to think it over.

Ten minutes pass, and I have made no headway. I keep getting sidetracked with thoughts of just how adorable Lisbon looks when she's embarrassed. Whether she's aware of it or not, her face is very expressive. A quick glance can tell a good observer, such as myself, exactly how she's feeling.

Oh my God. That's it. That's our in.

I leap off the couch and charge into her office. She jumps, and subsequently punches a hole in the form she's trying to fill out.

"Jane, what the hell?"

"I've got it! I know how we can get Mackenzie to confess!"

"That was quick," she says, suspiciously.

"I know. The speed of my own brilliance amazes me too sometimes."

She scoffs, but doesn't speak.

"Don't look at me like that," I reprimand her. "I just have one question. How good an actress are you?"

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

I can't believe I agreed to this. This is no the way to go about getting a confession, but I have to grudgingly admit that Jane is probably right. We're not going to get it any other way.

Today's 'brilliant' plan finds me sitting at a table in a small café near where Mackenzie works. The premise of this idea is actually rather simple. Jane thinks that since Mackenzie and I had already made something of a rapport, that she might let it slip if we offer the right circumstances. He says if she won't talk to a cop, then she might just talk to a regular woman. I have my doubts. Honestly, like she's going to confess murder to a complete stranger. But Jane is adamant, and in the absence of any better ideas, I suppose it's worth a try.

The little bell on the door tinkles and she enters the café wearing a black power suit that looks like it cost about as much as my car. Her hair is piled on top of her head and there are tiny diamond studs in her ears.

She approaches the counter and orders a strong black coffee. She turns around and spots me.

"I know you. From the party the other night…Teresa right?"

I nod.

"Would you like some company?" she asks and when I answer in the affirmative, takes the seat opposite me.

I take a sip of my coffee and hers arrives at the same time. She stirs sugar into it.

"So how are things going with you?" she asks me presently. "How's that scrumptious boyfriend of yours?"

I try and make myself look sad. "Actually, it looks like you were right about women in this town. He dumped me."

"Oh no!" says Mackenzie, sympathetically. "What happened?"

I've never been much of an actress, but Jane is certain that if I can sell this, she'll fall right into our little trap. He says that she is the type of woman who can't handle rejection in any form, even if it's happening to someone she barely even knows.

I wipe a non-existent tear from my eye. "There's not that much to tell. At the party he met someone else. She got her claws into him and all of a sudden I'm single again."

"I'm so sorry," she says, patting my hand. "You can't trust anyone around here. Take it from someone who knows. Who is she?"

"I don't know," I say, morosely. "But I've seen her. Tall, thin, beautiful. You know the type. "

The bell tinkles again. "Oh God," I whisper conspiratorially as the door opens. "That's her."

* * *

**Jane POV**

When I enter the café, arm in arm with my new 'girlfriend' played by Van Pelt, I immediately spot Lisbon and Mackenzie ensconced at a small table in the corner. As we enter, Lisbon looks miserably in my direction and Mackenzie eats it up, sending me a withering glare. When she looks away, I quickly wink at Lisbon, who grins back.

I knew she could pull this off. She's getting better at lying, Not good enough to fool me of course, but good enough for a job like this. With any luck, we'll be making an arrest in the next few minutes and this case will finally be over.

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

"I've never seen her before," Mackenzie says, studying Van Pelt. "She must be new as well."

"Oh, who cares what her name is?" I ask, a little hysterically. "She stole him from me!"

I don't care if it is just pretend, it feels strange to be so upset about the loss of Jane. As his boss, it would probably have me doing cartwheels around the office if he got moved to another department. No more lawsuits, way less paperwork, no more having to arrest people for punching him in the face. Of course, work would be a lot less fun as well and given recent events I'd probably miss him terribly.

Half my luck. Even if I did manage to get rid of him, I'd want him back. I guess I'm stuck with him now.

The two of them settle themselves at a table near to ours.

"Well why don't you do something about it?" asks Mackenzie quietly. "Go up to her and tell her to keep her hands off him."

"Like that's going to work. Look at her, she could pass for a supermodel and look at me, average as they come."

"There is one other thing you could do. Remember the bitch who took my boyfriend from me? I just took her out of the picture."

"How?"

"I followed her from work one day, there was no-one around. I just wanted to talk to her, to tell her to stay away from Mark. But she didn't listen to me, she just said I was crazy and that she loved him. And I got so mad."

This is it. I can't believe she's confessing to a complete stranger.

"I just picked up a plank and I hit her with it and she went down. Problem solved. Don't need to worry about her anymore."

"I guess not. But I know something you probably should start worrying about."

"What?"

I open my wallet to reveal my badge. "Agent Teresa Lisbon, CBI. You're under arrest for the murder of Justine Lyons."

"What?" she leaps up from her seat. "You tricked me!"

Jane stands up. "Actually it was my idea. She just carried it out." He turns to me. "And I think you chose the wrong profession my dear, you acted that beautifully."

"I'm sure the phone will be ringing off the hook with movie offers when we get back to Sacramento. But in the meantime, I need cuffs."

Van Pelt tosses me hers and after Mackenzie is secured I march her back to the Suburban.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you by the state of California-"

"This is coercion. There's no way this will stand up in court."

I shrug. "I've made arrests in far more questionable ways than this and they all were convicted. But you've got a pretty good shot at the insanity plea, so I guess we'll see how we go."

"Just one question. Are you and the hot blonde guy actually together or not?"

"No."

"Have you told him that? Because the way he's looking at you right now, I'm not convinced."

I can't help but flick a glance back at Jane and indeed, he is staring at me with pride and some other emotions I can't quite place.

"Just get in the car," I order her brusquely. I'll deal with Jane later.

* * *

**Jane POV**

All in all, it has been a very good day. The case is closed, and Lisbon took great pleasure in telling McKay he wasn't needed the second he stepped through the door.

I watch her as she ushers him back to the elevator and can tell she's trying to keep a satisfied smile off of her face.

"Congratulations Agent Lisbon," says McKay grudgingly. "A very good result."

"We do the best we can," she says modestly.

He seems to brighten slightly. "My invitation to dinner still stands. The case is closed, and I know a little place up the road that makes the best Indian food in town."

I chuckle to myself at the distaste on her face as he makes this offer. "That's nice of you Brandon, but I'll pass. Paperwork to do, you know."

Like the fool that he is, McKay swallows this story without question even though all her body language is screaming that she's lying. And that is why he doesn't deserve her. He doesn't know her at all.

"Maybe another time, then. Goodbye for now." They shake hands and as he disappears into the elevator she blows out a sigh of relief.

I follow her back into her office.

"You never know. He could've been your perfect match."

She sits back down at her desk.

"He thought I was incapable of doing my job. Not exactly the criteria I look for in a life partner."

I smile. "For what it's worth, I think you're better at your job then anyone I've ever met."

"Are you here for a reason or just to annoy me, because I've got work to do?"

"The case is closed."

"Oh, well spotted. They weren't lying when they said how observant you are."

"I seem to remember the two of us coming to an agreement this morning regarding the closing of this case and me taking you on a date. Are you following me?"

She glares at me. "Not here! People could hear."

"Don't be silly. It's after six. The only ones left here are you and me."

"We didn't come to an agreement. You left before I could answer you."

"But I knew you were going to say yes anyway, so I didn't have to wait around."

"Well what if I say no?"

"Then you'd be lying. Come on, it's one date. If it doesn't go well, then it'll never happen again. And unlike certain other people, I know exactly what you like so I promise you'll have a good time."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

She pauses for a minute. "You know what?" she says eventually. "You're on. One date, and you have to be on your best behaviour. If it goes badly I reserve the right to leave at any time."

"Done. And if it goes well?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Jane. That's a pretty big _if."_

And this is why I love her. Lisbon even managed to find a way to turn asking her out into some kind of contest.

"I'll pick you up at 7:30 tomorrow night. Wear something nice, but not too formal."

"Where are we going?"

"Not telling. It's a surprise."

"Fine. I thought I'd save you time by telling you if I didn't like it, but if you're going to be like that, I won't bother."

She reaches for the first sheet in a huge pile of paperwork.

"Lisbon? You don't actually think that you're average do you?"

"What?"

"That's what you said to Mackenzie today. You don't believe that, right?"

"Well, I'm not about to be named in any magazine's 25 Most Beautiful People list, but I'm not unhappy with my appearance."

"Because of the all words that come to mind when I think of you, 'average' isn't one of them. Nothing about you could be considered average."

We share a smile before I nip out of her office, leaving her in peace.

"Jane!" she calls through the door. "I hope it goes well. Because if you thought last night was good, you haven't seen anything yet."

It turns out that we aren't the only ones left here after all. I literally run into Mia as I exit the bullpen.

"Patrick!" she gushes. 'What a pleasant surprise!"

"Hello Mia," I greet her. "What are you doing here so late? I'm sure such a pretty young woman has a whole host of things she'd rather be doing then working back late."

She lets out a high-pitched giggle, so different to Lisbon's low chuckle. I know which one I prefer.

"Well I heard you solved another case today and I just wanted to say congratulations."

"It was all Agent Lisbon's doing," I say, self-deprecatingly. "She was the one who got the killer to confess."

She frowns at the mention of Lisbon.

"But you were the one that figured out who did it, right?"

"We all did."

She giggles again. "You're so modest. How about we go and have drinks to celebrate your success?"

"No thank you, Mia."

Her face falls. "Why not? I like you, you like me, we'd make a great couple."

I look over her head to where I can see Lisbon, dark hair illuminated in the lamplight, totally engrossed in her file.

"I'm sorry Mia, but I'm afraid I can't give you my heart, if that's what you want. It already belongs to someone else."

* * *

**I know the end of the case was kind of abrupt. I just like writing the relationship stuff better.**

**Next up, the date!!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Here we have the final chapter of 'Denim Dilemmas,' Jane and Lisbon's much-anticipated date. **

**I must say that this chapter was surprisingly difficult to write. It was a real challenge keeping them both in character while having them do such an out-of-character thing, but I had a lot of fun trying.**

**Names of establishments and such are all figments of my imagination and any similarity is coincidental. **

**I really hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

I can't sleep. The clock says that it is just past two in the morning. Ever since I went to bed I've done nothing but toss and turn. It's not that I'm not tired; I'm exhausted, but for some reason I just can't seem to settle down. Stupid as it sounds, my bed seems strangely empty without Jane next to me.

It's pathetic. For years I've had no problem being alone, and now it's like I'm turning into one of those needy people who can't sleep without their partner around. And I don't even have a partner!

Well, not yet anyway…

Though all that might change in approximately seventeen hours when he comes to pick me up for our date.

Our date. The last time I went on a date was when I was visiting my brother Tommy and he set me up with his wife's cousin.

Long story short, it didn't go all that well.

That was over a year ago. Yes, it has been that long since I, Teresa Lisbon, have been on a date. And God only knows how long it's been since I went out with someone who might actually mean something to me.

I feel like I'm about to either make the best or worst choice of my entire life. Our entire relationship, past, present and future, hangs in the balance.

* * *

**Jane POV**

It's a slow day at the CBI. As usual, the others all have post-case paperwork to tackle today and I don't bother myself with such mundane tasks. It's as good a time as any to catch up on my sleep.

Lisbon is discussing something with Rigsby, and as I watch her, she stifles a yawn. I'll bet she was up all night worrying about our date, going over every possible outcome in her head and just plain overthinking things, like always. She really needs to stop thinking so much. All the stress is going to send her to an early grave.

I reach for my phone and send her a quick text message.

_You look a little frazzled, my dear. Not going to chicken out on me are you?_

Her phone chirps as the message arrives. She smiles a little as she reads it. She taps away at her phone, presumably composing a reply. Within moments, it arrives.

_Not on your life, Jane._

Her phone chirps again, and Rigsby looks across at her in confusion.

_Sure? This is your one and only chance to back out. I won't even tease you about it…much._

She walks back into her office, with her phone in her hand, texting as she goes.

The message comprises three words.

_Bring it on._

I chuckle as I read this.

"You know, she's right across the room Jane," Cho deadpans, not even glancing up. "Save yourself some time and money and go and bug her in person."

"Yeah," agrees Rigsby. "Face-to-face is definitely the way to go. Twice the irritation in half the time."

"Thanks guys," I laugh. "But I think I'll just take a nap instead."

I send out one last text message and then settle back on the couch and close my eyes.

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

The message tone rings out once more.

_I accept that challenge. Looking forward to tonight. ;)_

The clock display on my phone says it's 10:30 am. Nine hours to go.

**Jane POV**

The rest of the day passes in an uneventful and subsequently, boring manner. I alternate between Sudoku and catnapping on the couch, rising every few hours or so to deliver another coffee to Lisbon, who hasn't come out of her office all day.

It's 5:00 and everyone is putting away their files, rinsing out their coffee cups and turning off their computers. They all look tired and I can tell they're all dying to get home and start their weekends.

In turn, they each poke their heads into Lisbon's office and bid her goodnight before heading out.

Once they've all gone, I duck in there myself.

"I'm heading out," I tell her. "Have to change. Got a hot date tonight."

She chuckles.

"Don't stay back too long," I say to her, mock-sternly. "I'll know if you do."

"Fifteen minutes, tops."

"Yeah right. Knowing you, fifteen minutes will turn into at least forty-five. I'll see you soon."

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

After about an hour's worth of deliberation, I've decided on a straight black skirt that falls just above my knees, a blue blouse and a pair of low, slingback heels. But when I look in the mirror again, I look more like I'm going to a business function then on a date. The problem with working as much as I do is that one's off-duty wardrobe tends to get neglected.

It makes choosing outfits somewhat difficult when half the clothes you have don't fit you anymore, and half are so out-of-date that they shouldn't be anywhere but the reduced-to-clear rack in a thrift store.

Rifling through the rack for what feels like the hundredth time, I happen across a top I'd forgotten I had. It's a halter-top made of satin in a similar shade of red as the dress I wore to the party the other night.

It's sexy, without being overly skimpy, and I already know Jane likes the way I look in red. Why not use that to my advantage?

I glance at the clock. He'll be here in half an hour and I've done nothing with my hair or makeup. I need to make a decision now.

Impulsively I seize it from the rack and exchange it with the blouse.

* * *

**Jane POV**

As I prepare to leave my house to pick up Lisbon, a photograph of my wife catches my eye from where it sits on the table by the door. The camera caught her as she laughed, a moment frozen in time. I pick it up, and trace my fingers around her face.

"Please don't hate me for this," I whisper, even though I know she can't hear me. "I'll never forget you."

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

The knock at the door comes just I'm giving myself a final once-over in my bedroom mirror. I take deep breath. Here goes nothing.

He's standing on the threshold in his usual three-piece suit, though admittedly, different to the one that he had on at work today. His gaze sweeps up and down my body appreciatively, and I breathe an internal sigh of relief as he smiles at me.

"You should wear that outfit to work sometime," he says. "Criminals will be queuing up to confess their sins. You'd probably close all our outstanding cases in one day."

"Funny," I say, sarcastically. "Although, then we wouldn't need you, so I could fire you." I pause, thoughtfully. Maybe I _will_ give it a try."

"Right. Let me know the day you're going to do it. I'll be sure to bring a camera."

We both chuckle.

"Seriously though," he says after a little while. "You look wonderful."

"Thank you."

"So, I bet you've been wondering where I'm taking you tonight."

"Just promise me that whatever you've got planned isn't dangerous or illegal, and I'll try and go with it."

He smiles. "Actually, I haven't got anything planned."

"What?"

"I've filled my car up with gas, I figured we could just take a drive and see where the night takes us."

"So this is your big surprise?" I ask, grappling with the idea. "Nothing?"

He shakes his head. "You're controlling by nature, Lisbon. A little spontaneity will be good for you."

I can feel myself starting to get mad at him already. "If this is going to turn into one of your mind-game sessions you can count me out."

He actually looks a little hurt at this accusation. "This is exactly what I meant. You need to relax and enjoy yourself a little. We just closed the case, you deserve to have some fun."

There's a lull in conversation as I consider this.

"No mind games?" I ask eventually.

"No mind games," he says, firmly. "Tonight, my only function is to make you happy. Your wish is my command."

I reach out, and take his hand in mine for a brief moment.

"All right."

His face lights up. "Then let's not stand around here wasting time. Let's go."

I fumble with the keys a bit as I lock the door, wondering what exactly I have let myself in for.

* * *

**Jane POV**

We've been driving for about ten minutes. There's a comfortable energy in the car as we wend our way through the streets of Sacramento. She giggles as I serenade her with a rendition of the Michael Buble song on the radio. The light in front of me turns red, and I ease to a stop just outside a restaurant with a blue awning and stylish chrome furniture.

"That's Carmenett's," Lisbon says presently. "To get a table you have to book a month in advance."

"Have you ever eaten there?"

"No, but I've always wanted to. My brother took his girlfriend once while he was in town. They both said the food was incredible."

The light turns green but instead of proceeding straight ahead I turn a corner and park outside the restaurant.

"Are you hungry?" I ask her.

She scoffs. "You've got no chance of getting us in there without a reservation."

"So little faith," I say, in mock-hurt. "I'll be back soon."

"I'm going to enjoy watching them kick you out on your ass. Do you think if I give them a tip, they'll rough you up a bit too?" She grins, mischievously.

"We can only hope," I say as I walk up the steps into the restaurant.

It takes a minute or two until a staff member appears, a young blonde girl.

"Welcome to Carmenett's. Do you have a reservation?"

"Actually, I don't. I was hoping you could squeeze me in."

"I'm sorry sir, but we're fully booked tonight."

"Look, if you can see fit to find me a table, I promise I won't say anything about you having sex with the boss's husband in the stockroom just now."

The girl turns pale. "H-How do you know that?" she stammers.

"It's obvious from your whole demeanour," -I glance at her name tag- "Kelly. You weren't at your post, and when you were on your way over, you kept looking over your shoulder like you were scared of something. Also your shirt is crooked and your skirt's on back to front, like you pulled it on in a hurry."

She goes an even more sickly shade of white and snatches up the phone. "One moment."

I know I promised Lisbon that there wouldn't be mind games, but what she doesn't know can't hurt her, right? Anyway, I only agreed not to screw around with _her _head. I never said anything about anyone else.

Kelly puts down the phone. "As it happens, we've had a cancellation tonight. Table for one, Mr-?"

"Jane," I supply. "And no, someone will be joining me."

"Very good. Your table will be ready in two minutes."

Triumphantly, I return to the car and open the passenger side door. Lisbon smirks at me. "That didn't take very long. I guess the people here know an asshole when they see one."

"Maybe. But I still got us in."

Her jaw drops in surprise. "Really? How the hell did you manage that?"

"Let's just say it was my powers of persuasion, along with my classic good looks."

"Well it certainly wasn't for your modesty, because I'm pretty sure that doesn't exist."

I offer her a hand to help her out of the car and she accepts it. Neither of us bothers to let go until we walk inside.

Kelly is waiting for us, holding two menus.

"Right this way, Mr Jane," she says with a very forced politeness, and leads us to a partially secluded table near the back of the restaurant. She waits impatiently as I pull out Lisbon's chair for her, and wait for her to sit, before taking my own seat. She hands a menu to each of us.

"Someone will be by soon to take your order," she says. "In the meantime, would you like anything to drink?"

"How about a cabernet?" I suggest looking sideways at Lisbon. "I know it's your favourite."

"Sounds good," she smiles.

Kelly nods once and then sweeps away, leaving the two of us alone.

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

Surprised as I am to admit it, this date is going really well. We've just spent an hour eating some of the most delicious food I've ever tasted and so far, Jane has been a model citizen.

People keep looking at us strangely because we're laughing so hard at stories he's been telling from when he worked at the carnival, and he didn't mind at all when I stole a few bites of his lamb cutlets when I realized the Caesar salad I'd ordered for entrée just wasn't going to cut it.

It's been disturbingly easy to forget all the reasons why I was against going out with him before now. Worries about work have all but disappeared as I'm having so much fun in his company.

"What shall we have for dessert?" he asks.

"I don't know if I can handle any more of this high-end stuff," I say, scanning the menu. "You know what I'm really craving right now?"

"What?"

"A bear claw. Marie's is only a couple of blocks from here and she usually stays open late on Friday nights."

Jane starts to snicker.

"What?" I demand.

"Lisbon, only you could be sitting in one of the top restaurants in Sacramento and still not be satisfied. You're a hard woman to please."

"Got a problem with that?"

"Not at all. You're challenging. That's what makes your happiness more worth the earning."

I feel a familiar warmth spreading right through my body as he smiles at me. As we gaze at each other, I'm struck by how much I'd like to kiss him right now. He seems to be thinking along the same lines as he brushes my hand with his lips, reminiscent of the night of the party.

Just then, a waiter approaches the table, shattering the moment. "Any dessert or coffee?" he enquires in a bored voice, flipping open his order pad. His nametag reads 'Lucas.'

"No thanks," says Jane. "We'll just have the bill. And can I say, the lack of bear claw on your dessert menu is extremely disappointing. You should really do something about that."

He grins at me and I have to bite my lip to stifle my laughter.

"Whatever," says Lucas. "I'll get the cheque."

When he delivers it to the table, Jane seizes it at once and pulls out his wallet.

"Don't even think about it," he says to me, as I reach for mine. "This one's on me."

"Jane, have you seen these prices?" I ask incredulously. "Even if we split it, it's going to take up every cent of our next three paycheques."

"I can cover it. Look this is my one chance to impress you…"

"And if you think you're going to score brownie points just by flashing your cash then you're wrong. Just because you're the guy doesn't mean I can't pay my own way."

He sighs. "Look, call me a traditionalist but I thought that since I asked you out, I would pay. That's all. I'm not trying to imply anything or assert some kind of control. You're already the strongest person I know. You don't have to keep proving it to me. All right?"

"OK."

"Good. Now will you please let me pay the bill so we can get out of here?"

I nod, and he tucks some bills into the folder. Lucas returns and Jane hands it to him. "There's a tip included for you," he informs him. "And could you see that Kelly gets this, please?" he requests, handing over a twenty.

"Sure," says Lucas, a little taken aback.

"Tell her I appreciate what she did for us, and her secret's safe with me."

Lucas simply shrugs and puts the bill into his pocket. Jane pulls out my chair for me once more, and we leave the restaurant.

* * *

**Jane POV**

When we get outside, I intend to walk straight to the car but Lisbon pulls me back.

"It's a nice night, and we're not in any hurry. Let's just walk."

"Anxious to start burning off all that 'high-end' food?" I ask. "Probably a good idea, it'll be going to straight to your thighs."

She swats at me, playfully. "Oh, shut up."

We begin to stroll down the sidewalk. Since it's still early, the nightlife hasn't really kicked in as yet, so it's relatively quiet on the streets tonight. Our hands keep brushing against each other as we walk, so to combat this, I take her hand in mine and interlock our fingers together. To an outsider, we just seem like an ordinary couple, taking a walk through town.

I can't speak for Lisbon of course, but I could get used to this newfound intimacy of ours very easily. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to have somebody with whom I want to spend every waking minute, and who makes my day brighter just be being around. I squeeze her hand in an attempt to convey to her just how wonderful this feels. Maybe she understands, maybe she doesn't; but she squeezes back.

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

We get to Marie's just as she's about to close up shop for the night and with a little sweet-talking on Jane's part, convince her to sell us a bear claw (for me) and a chocolate frosted doughnut (for Jane) at half-price.

She smiles at us as she's ringing up the sale. "So you two are an item now, are you?" she asks.

Jane and I exchange glances. "We're not sure what, if anything, we are yet," I answer, truthfully.

"What's stopping you?"

"Several things," Jane says, vaguely. "But primarily, our work. CBI employees aren't supposed to date."

She waves the argument away as if it's a particularly irritating fly.

"You two wouldn't be the first to break that rule and you wouldn't be the last ones, either. "

My mind immediately flashes to Rigsby and Van Pelt.

"And if I may say something," she goes on. "Ever since the two of you first walked into my shop three years ago, bickering like an old married couple, I had a feeling something like this would happen."

"Seriously?" I ask, dubiously.

"Absolutely. You've got this energy around you, like you're in your own personal bubble and the rest of the world just watches from the outside. I've never seen anything like it before."

She hands over the bags with the food in them.

"You've definitely got something between you. All you need now is to decide what you're going to do with it."

The walk back to the car is somewhat less comfortable then before. Luckily, the food gives us an excellent excuse not to talk to each other and I find myself taking smaller-than-usual bites, to better prolong the silence.

Marie's words keep going around and around in my head, like an antique record player that I can't turn off. Never before has someone else directly questioned us on our feelings for each other. People at work have hinted at it, speculated about it and danced around the subject but I never took much notice of it.

Someone who draws as much attention to themselves as Jane does is a veritable goldmine for gossip, and seeing that I'm the one who always has to take him to task about his varying levels of stupidity, it makes sense that I'd come in for my fair share as well.

Do they see us like Rigsby and Van Pelt, two people who have done everything but blatantly announce that they're together?

This 'energy' Marie says we have, do they all feel it too? Or is it just a figment of her imagination?

Either way, it's certainly given me a lot to think about.

* * *

**Jane POV**

My doughnut runs out just as we come up on my car, as does Lisbon's bear claw. Suddenly faced with the prospect of having to talk to each other again we both seem to come to the same decision not to mention what Marie said.

"So, where to next?" I ask, making my voice sound as cheerful as possible.

"I don't know," she says. "I'm not good at this whole 'being spontaneous' thing."

"I think you're doing very well, for a beginner."

"Thanks. I think."

"OK, here's what we're going to do. Let's leave it up to chance." I pull a coin from my pocket. "If it's heads we go right at the next intersection, if it's tails we go left. We keep doing that at every one and see where we end up."

"That's insane! We could end up anywhere."

"That's the thrill of it, Lisbon. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Being adventurous and being stupid seem to fall into the same category when it comes to you. What if we get lost?"

"We won't. I have an excellent sense of direction."

"Rubbish. It took us an extra hour to get to Nevada on the Meyer case because you insisted that taking the back roads would be quicker. And don't even get me started on the San Diego fiasco…"

"Will you relax? My cell phone has GPS. We'll find our way back easily."

I hold out the coin to her.

"This is crazy," she says, tossing it into the air.

* * *

**Lisbon POV**

I've let Jane talk me into a lot of dubious schemes over the years, pretending to be a lunatic and blackmailing a wealthy government figure to name only two, but this is without a doubt one of the craziest things I've ever done.

Jane's little coin-flipping trick soon sees us out of Sacramento and onto the open road and I have to admit, I'm kind of enjoying myself. Jane is entertaining me with stories and jokes and I'm excited to see where we're going to end up. Many minutes and innumerable coin flips later we pull to a stop.

"I don't believe it. Sausalito?"

"I guess fate is trying to tell us something. This is the area where we found Justine. We've metaphorically come full circle," he says, getting out of the car.

We walk to the edge of the marina and sit down on a wooden bench overlooking the ocean.

"It's beautiful," I say after a while. "You don't get views like this in the city."

"And just think, if you hadn't gone out with me tonight, you wouldn't have seen it."

"Of course, at the end of the day it all comes back to you. Should have known."

A slight wind blowing in from across the ocean plays havoc with my hair. Jane's of course looks even better when it's been tousled. He brushes away the stray ones that have settled over my face and doesn't take his arm away when he's done, instead leaving it draped across my shoulders.

I let it stay.

"Do you regret it?" I ask him, presently.

"What?"

"Coming to the CBI. Do you ever wish you hadn't needed to get revenge so much?"

He sighs. "This is hardly good date talk, Lisbon."

"Seriously, I want to know."

"Sometimes I regret it. We try so hard and every time we get close to catching Red John, he slips away again. Sometimes I think if I just stop looking, he'll come and find me instead. And I regret it when I see cases like Justine's, people killing each other over such petty things."

His grip tightens on me a fraction.

"But for the most part I'm glad that I joined the CBI. It feels like I'm undoing some of the wrongs I committed while I was a psychic."

"And to try and get revenge on Red John."

"Yes. That too. But do you want to know the main reason I'm glad I joined the CBI?"

He pauses, looking like he's steeling himself up for something big.

"If I hadn't come to CBI, I would never have met you."

"Me?"

"Yes," he says, fervently. "If it weren't for you, I'd be dead by now, either by Red John or by being eaten alive by my own demons. You saved me from that."

"Get out of here."

"You never let me wallow in my misery. You challenged me; you made me want to _try_ again. I'll always be grateful for that."

I'm not sure how I feel about this. Jane is never this candid, least of all about his feelings.

He seems to sense my discomfort and gives me a little squeeze. "Sorry to dump all that heavy stuff on you, but it's just the way I feel."

"It's okay. I asked." I rest my head on his shoulder, and he automatically reaches up and starts to play with my hair.

"So, while we're in a sharing mood, why don't you tell me something about yourself that I don't know yet…if there is anything."

I scoff. "I know you think you've got me all figured out, but in reality, the things you don't know about me could fill a book, Jane."

"Really?" he asks and I'm relieved to see him smiling again. "Well go on then, dazzle me."

"Fine. You want dazzle?" I ask. "I bet you didn't know that I was eleven years old when I helped catch my first criminal."

He smiles. "Sounds about right. Teresa Lisbon, fighting crime and kicking ass right from the word go. So what happened?"

"I went to the mall one day after school to buy a new pair of sneakers because mine were falling to pieces. I went into a shoe shop and started to try some on when I heard the girl at the cash register scream. There was a guy standing there with a ski mask and a knife and he told her to hand over the money. When he reached for it, his shirt lifted up at the back just enough for me see he had a tattoo of a lion. I remember the cashier was in hysterics when the cops got there. She was so upset that she couldn't even answer their questions."

"And so naturally, 'Mother Teresa' stepped in," says Jane, smiling fondly.

"I just felt so sorry for her and I thought about how scared she would have been. I told them about the tattoo and everything I could remember about what he was wearing, and how his voice sounded."

"So did they get the guy?"

"Yes. A week later I got a call from the police saying that they had him in custody. The lead investigator told me that if it hadn't been for me, they would never have caught him."

He sits in silence, digesting all this.

"But you know what I remember the most?" I go on. "About six months later I went back into that shop and the same girl was there. As soon as she saw me, she came around and she hugged me. And that moment, just knowing that I had helped her, was when I first knew I wanted to be a cop."

"Wow. I always assumed…you know, your mother…" He doesn't go on.

I ignore the cold stab of pain that occurs at the thought of her. "No. That just made me even more certain."

A yacht glides across the horizon, so tall it momentarily blots out the moon.

"I'm sorry," he says after a time. "I shouldn't have brought her up. Guess that means I broke my good-behaviour bond. I'll understand if you just want to take the car and leave me here."

"I think I can let you off the hook just this once," I say, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

Jane tilts his head to try and see my watch. "It's past midnight," he remarks. "I think it's time to get you home, Cinderella."

"But I'm not tired," I protest. I don't want to go home, because then this wonderful evening will be over and reality will set in once again. I know real life has to come back eventually, but does it have to be now? Can't I have just a few more hours?

"Your lips say no but the bags under your eyes say yes," he smiles. "Come on." He slowly stands up, pulling me along with him.

* * *

**Jane POV**

She falls asleep in the car on the way back to her apartment with her head against the window. I switch the radio off so it won't disturb her and silence reigns for the rest of the journey.

I walk her to her door. She unlocks it, but doesn't go inside.

"You survived the night," I point out, grinning. "I think we can call it a success."

"I didn't even need to bring along my off-duty weapon," she smiles. "I never know what to expect with you," she adds, in response to my questioning look.

"I guess the only thing left to do now is a good-night kiss."

Somehow it feels appropriate to ask her permission, even though we've crossed this threshold before, as well as others beyond.

I wrap my arms around her waist, drawing her close to me. The kiss is brief but tender and we both emerge from it with a smile on our faces. The smiles gradually fade as we gaze into each other's eyes. The tension is palpable, the air buzzing with electricity.

"I want this," I whisper to her. "I can't predict what will happen next year, or next month or even tomorrow but I can promise you that no matter what, I will always care for you, I will treasure you and find some way every day of showing you just how much, whether as your friend or something more. It's up to you."

There's an excruciating pause. I can almost hear the cogs working overtime in her mind as she processes all this.

"So," I say when I can't bear the silence anymore. "What do you say to giving us a shot?"

She takes a deep breath. Another. Another.

And then she says it. The single greatest word known to man.

"Yes."

Joyfully, I pull her towards me to kiss her again, but she pulls away.

"Cool your jets, Romeo," she says, smirking. "We need to set down some guidelines here."

Typical. Straight into the rules. Ah well, that's the woman I fell for.

"Number one. Nobody finds out about this. And I mean nobody. Not even the team."

"Of course."

"Number two. When we're on a case, we don't see each other outside of work."

"And number three?"

The smirk turns into a full-blown smile.

"And number three, please don't ever wear jeans to work again. Otherwise I can't be held responsible for my actions."

"Done and done. And now it's my turn to lay down a rule."

"Oh really? And what's that? I have to stop yelling at you?"

"Nope."

"I have to let you run any idiotic scheme you want?"

"No. Though that would be useful. My request is a simple one."

"Let's hear it."

I pull her towards me once more and this time she doesn't resist.

"Shut up."

This rule is surprisingly well received, though that may have something to do with the passionate kiss that accompanies it.

One day, I might be able to pluck up the courage to tell her how deeply I love her, but today is not it.

Today, just this enough.

_We _are enough.

* * *

**So that's all folks! Thank you all so much for reading and especially to those of you who stuck with this story until the end. I can't believe my little one-shot turned into a project spanning nearly five months and countless hours on the computer, but it's been worth it.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed especially those of you who took the time to review each chapter. Much appreciated.**

**Now I've been bitten by the multi-parter bug, I've already started planning my next fic and I hope some of you will want to read it once it is published!**

**Jisbon forever!!!**

**Alex x**


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